Antics
by egyouppt
Summary: Finn keeps telling himself he's strong enough to resist Rachel's crazy. But is he? Not likely! Finchel concept fic. Complete!
1. Three

**A/N: This is mostly pointless Finchelness. It's a lot less dramatic than 'Hypocrisy,' but it's okay. I like to write lighthearted stuff every now and then.**

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Disclaimer: I don't own Glee yadda yadda. This gets really redundant after a while.

**Review! **

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Finn groaned and paused the game he was playing when he heard the doorbell ring. He was the only one home today and he didn't think anyone would be bothering him until later. And Rachel had said since it was supposed to storm all day, she would be using the time to practice her dancing.

He heard the loud boom of thunder as he reached for the doorknob and thought _anyone_ would _have_ to be crazy to be out in this weather!

So the last thing he expected to see when he opened the door was a soaking wet Rachel carrying a…what? It looked like a blanket. Wait. Was the blanket _moving?_

"Rachel?" he asked. "What _is_ that?"

"Thank you for inviting me in," she replied drily, shoving past him and into the kitchen, dripping.

Before Finn could fumble for a response, Rachel glanced at him worriedly and said, "Anyway, this is yours." She pushed the wet bundle into his arms and watched him.

He slowly started to unwrap the blanket and then sneezed.

Confused, Finn looked down and saw a little furry head poking out. "You brought me a _cat?_" he asked incredulously. The cat wriggled free of the blanket and stretched across Finn's arms. He looked at Rachel helplessly.

"Well, I was on my way to the dance studio today and I saw him, poor thing, getting soaked. He doesn't have a collar and looks very thin. So he must be a stray. Someone needs to take care of him!"

"'Him'? You checked out the plumbing?" Finn looked down at the cat again and back at his girlfriend. "Rachel!" he protested. "It only has three legs!"

She looked at him sharply. "So?" she countered defensively. "He is still a living, breathing, _feeling_ creature in need of caretaking. Finn, if you only had one arm, do you think I would lo—care about you any less? Of course not! Don't be so judgmental!"

Finn looked at the wet, fuzzy cat still in his arms. It was completely gray and had darker gray tiger strips around its tail. _It _is_ kind of cute,_ he thought grudgingly. _He,_ Finn mentally corrected himself. _He_ was kind of cute.

"How come you don't take it—him?" he asked, sneezing again.

Rachel huffed. "Of course I would were I able to! You're aware of that. But Daddy would never allow me to have a cat. It's one of the most basic rules of the house. And it's not like I could sneak him in because how would I take care of him? He deserves the love and care of one Finn Hudson! I should know!"

Finn bit back a groan; Rachel _had_ to learn to stop talking at a hundred miles per hour. He could tell his resolve was weakening. It was always like this with her. And then he sneezed again. _Crap,_ he thought. _That's it!_

"Rachel," he told her, pulling out the last of his defenses. "I'm allergic to cats."

"I know. I remembered," she replied brightly, before pulling something out of her coat pocket. "That's why I bought you these." She held up two boxes of Benadryl allergy relief.

Now Finn couldn't stifle his laughter. God, she was _crazy_. But he was crazy about her. So it worked.

He leaned in to kiss her soundly, the cat getting a little squashed in between the two teenagers. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to resist her. She was Rachel Berry. He knew his mom would be totally thrilled to have a cat, anyway. And Rachel was so _persistent._

"Okay," he agreed. And he couldn't help the way his chest tightened at the expression on her face. She looked so happy. He made a note to do things that would earn this look from her more often. It wasn't the crazy-happy look she gave him that he used to be afraid of. It was the "I'm-so-glad-you-appreciate-my-craziness" look. He liked it a lot.

Rachel smiled at her boyfriend. He was _the best._ At the beginning of the year, she wouldn't have believed she'd be standing in Finn's kitchen, handing him a stray three-legged cat because he was her boyfriend and she needed him. She had wanted that, of course. But she had given up on expecting it to happen. Well, maybe the cat detail hadn't been part of the original daydream, but he was a cute kitty, after all. She didn't mind the detail.

"Thank you, Finn," she said, brushing her fingers over his face. "If I'd had someone else to go to first for this cat, I would have. You know that I know you're allergic and that the last thing you wanted was a cat. But you're the only person who cares about me all the time. Not just when I'm contributing heavily to winning glee club performances or getting egged by those Vocal Adrenaline _delinquents. _I really do appreciate this. And you. So thank you."

There was so much he wanted to tell her. But he wasn't sure how fragile their relationship was and he wasn't sure how to phrase any of it, so he decided against it.

"No problem," he responded instead. Then he frowned. "We'll need, like, food and stuff for him, though," he pointed out.

Rachel put her hands on her hips and smiled widely. "I have everything he needs—and probably a lot of things he doesn't need—in my car. I may have went a tad overboard," she admitted bashfully. "But I plan on visiting him every day, just so you know! We can take care of him jointly."

"We can get it later," he said, cracking a smile. He kind of liked the idea of taking care of another person—well, sort of—with Rachel. He hoped it would be practice for the future. He surprised himself with that thought. But there it was. Ignoring the urge to sneeze again, Finn held up the cat. "So what are we naming this little guy?"

"Well," Rachel began, inhaling deeply. "On the drive here, I made approximately twelve mental lists of potential names based on coloring, size, popularity, etc. I thought that the more organized I was, the easier it would be to select a proper name for him. But it just made the process more difficult as there were just so many possibilities. So I cleared off the slate and have now chosen the perfect name!"

Finn looked at Rachel affectionately. If it had been anyone else, he would have just brushed the person off and said he needed to get back to his game. But Rachel was different. She was something else entirely. So instead he listened to her ramble about cat names. He was thinking something like Smokey or Bengal (like the tigers, right? And the football team, of course). Something like that. But she had a lot more ideas than he did. So he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him which name she picked.

"Sorbet," said Rachel, her voice soft.

Oh man. It was such work not to laugh. "Uh, what? Why?" he asked, amused.

"Well, when you came over to my house the other day and we made raspberry sorbet, I remembered how much you had liked it. So I thought he could symbolize a good memory of and for us."

Finn set the cat—Sorbet—down and watched as he hobbled towards the living room. He planted his hands on Rachel's waist, reveling in the feel of her, and looked at her face. "Sorbet is perfect," he said, his breath on her neck. Rachel shivered. Finn seemed to do that to her a lot.

"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the couch. "You're here now. You might as well stay for a while." He thought her craziness may be one of the most endearing things about her. He wasn't really good with words—especially ones that were supposed to be all meaningful and everything. But he thought he did a pretty good job of making sure Rachel knew how he felt about her. Only she would name a cat Sorbet. And only he would appreciate her enough to not think it was a dumb or ridiculous name. He smiled at her.

Rachel felt familiar prickles of anticipation at the thought of spending the afternoon with Finn. Grinning, she shrugged her coat off and followed him into the living room.

Sorbet was already on the couch, curling up. They both laughed. Maybe the cat would symbolize more than just a memory for them. But for the time being, they both knew at least one thing: It was going to be a good afternoon.

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**So at this point, this it as one-shot. But I have some ideas still on making it a multi-chapter fic. I mean, they wouldn't be directly related. There's only so much I can write about Finn, Rachel, and a cat. But I do have other possibilities running through my head. But that's your call. Let me know what you think.**

Reviews = Love.

**Ciao.  
Take care.  
x **


	2. Renaissance

**A/N: Thanks everyone for all the support and encouragement. I have, indeed, decided to make this a multi-chapter fic. =D I'm not really sure how to describe the nature of this story because it's not exactly a collection of one-shots like my other story. Because these are all in chronological order and all relate back to Rachel's craziness and Finn's inability to deny her. But there isn't a distinct plot line either. But I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.  
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy called me last night and told me he's signing the rights to Glee over to me. Yeah, okay, that definitely didn't happen. Therefore, I own nothing.**

Reviews = love.  


* * *

"Rachel!" Finn groaned in protest. "No way!"

"Finn, it will be fine," she promised.

He put his hands in his head. Didn't she get it? There was no way in _hell_ he was going to do this. He loved her, yeah, (though he hadn't said it since that time at Regionals because she hadn't actually said it back yet and he didn't want to push her), but this was _beyond_ embarrassing!

"It's only for one day. My cousin is sick and needs us to fill in for him and his partner. You'd be doing a good deed!" Rachel exclaimed.

Finn frowned at the doublet (that's what she called it. To him it looked like something Kurt would wear if he were high on opiates after making out with a boy for the first time) that she had set in front of him dubiously. He picked up the next article of clothing. "What the hell are these? Balloon pants? And, Rachel, I can't wear leggings! I'm a _dude!_ Are you _crazy?_" Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. YES. He knew the answer to that question. But he was still here. So now what?

"Finn," Rachel said with exaggerated patience. "It's a Renaissance Fair. Not a Barbie on Ice concert. Everyone else is going to look just as ridiculous as you do," she assured him.

Oddly enough, he didn't feel very comforted by that thought.

"Besides, it will be fun," she insisted. "All we have to do is walk around like a beautiful, royal couple. And it will be good practice for homecoming."

Rachel's cousin had called her yesterday to take his and his partners spots at the festival because they weren't feeling too well. He'd had costumes delivered to the local tailor shop and Rachel had picked them up earlier today. She watched at Finn debated with himself internally. He hadn't walked out the door yet; she had to give him credit for that.

Finn dragged his hands through his hair. He could tell her no and keep his dignity. Or he could say yes and make Rachel happy, which, he admitted to himself, would make both of their lives easier. But still…_leggings?_ Why couldn't her cousin need them to cover at a baseball game of something? He wanted to beat his head against the wall.

"Nobody better find out about this. _Ever,_" he grumbled.

Rachel's face lit up instantly and she launched herself into his arms, kissing his neck. "They won't. Oh, Finn, thank you! Thank you!" She moved to his lips, trying to pour all of her gratitude into the kiss. When she heard the guttural sound that erupted from his throat, she knew she had been successful. She pulled away, a little breathless, and whispered, "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Finn had to work really hard to keep his eyes from bugging out. _Calm down,_ he told himself. "Why is it that I can _never_ say no to you?" he wondered aloud.

"It's because you love me," Rachel answered promptly.

"I—" Finn started.

Rachel shook her head, signaling him to be quiet. Then her eyes brightened and she said, "If it helps, I love you, too."

Finn's heart swelled in his chest. He'd been waiting for her to say those words. So much that he didn't even care he was being a total girl. "It does," he grinned, and pulled her toward him once more.

It wasn't how she had planned to tell him, but when she thought about it, Rachel decided that now was the perfect time. And she figured it would help take his mind off the Renaissance Fair a little, too.

When Rachel realized that she and Finn were on their way to a full-out make out session, she pulled away again. "I said I'd make it up to you," she told him between breaths, "but not now." Finn's face fell a little and she could tell he was trying to reign himself in. She appreciated that he always respected her. She patted his thigh consolingly. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Trust me. But right now, we've got to try on our costumes."

Finn's head fell back in disgust. "Why?" he complained boyishly. She had to hell herself it wasn't totally adorable. (It definitely was.)

"Because what if they don't fit, Finn? Or what if they're unflattering to our skin tones?"

"You sound like Kurt," he muttered darkly.

Rachel ignored that. "You can use the bathroom because your costume takes up less space," she said, pushing him towards the door. She handed him the sixteenth century garments and walked to her closet. After he shut the door, Finn eyed the pile in his hands. He kind of doubted Rachel's costume took up less space. Come on, look at those pants! Both his mom and Kurt's dad could fit in those things! Grimacing at the images in his head, he pushed that thought away quickly. Ugh. Anyway, he hadn't actually _seen_ Rachel's costume yet, so maybe she was right.

Finn had no idea which piece of clothing was supposed to go on first, so he started with the leggings. Leggings, for Pete's sake! Puck would cut Finn's balls off if he ever found out about this.

On the bright side, Rachel had told him she loved him. He couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face at the thought as he tried to figure out the humungous pants. _These things are ridiculous,_ he thought to himself. His mind wandered to Rachel's costume. What did Renai—Reni—_whatever._ What did those girls wear back then anyway? He should have paid more attention in history class.

Finn fumbled with the buttons on the doublet. It was black and gold and really, really itchy. _Jesus,_ he thought, _this thing fits like a freaking straitjacket!_

He did _not_ relish the thought of spending ten plus hours in this get up tomorrow. But he was doing it for Rachel, so he figured it would probably be worth it.

* * *

Rachel fiddled with the kirtle that complemented the rest of her costume. It was gold in color and she hoped it matched the gown as well as the tailor had told her it did. In her extensive auditioning for community theater productions and musical performances, she'd worn a lot of costumes. But never anything this…extravagant.

"Rachel? Are you ready yet?" she heard Finn call from the bathroom.

"No. Don't come out yet!" In her head, she could hear Finn sigh exasperatedly. Rachel grinned.

She slipped on the dress and did her best at tying the laces on the back. She would have asked Finn, but she didn't want him to see her until she could appraise her appearance. He could help her tomorrow. She looked in the mirror and felt like a princess. The gown was a deep russet taffeta with gold trimming (looks like the kirtle did, in fact, match perfectly) that fell just below the knee. It had a swooping neckline and flowing sleeves. Rachel knew the costume would get uncomfortable after a while, but it was just _so_ beautiful. She hoped Finn liked it.

_Finn._ She'd always known he was different. Special in his own way. Once he'd gotten over caring quite so much about how other people saw him, he really shone. And he loved her. She knew he truly did because no one else would squeeze themselves into cramped, hot, Renaissance clothing for her. But she loved him too. And, as she had promised, she was certainly going to make this up to him.

After strapping on the shoes, she yelled to Finn that she was ready.

"Finally," Finn mumbled, coming out of the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. When she turned around to face him, his breath caught in his throat. He didn't have sufficient words to fit what he wanted to say. (Not that he usually did, but this was different.) _Maybe this won't be so bad after all,_ he realized, admiring the way the dress clung to Rachel's body. He tried really hard to avert his gaze from her chest and focus on her face. He really did. But it didn't seem to be working. He had always thought those old princess gowns were too overdramatic and didn't show nearly enough skin, but seeing Rachel just now was changing his mind. Finn licked his lips.

"I like your dress," he finally managed.

"Please," Rachel scoffed. "You like the way this dress accentuates my breasts."

Finn choked, not believing what he had just heard. But after recovering a bit, he looked up and noticed that Rachel was beaming at him. "Thank you, Finn." She walked toward him. "And don't you look handsomely regal," she said playfully, tugging on the doublet jacket. "It's kind of tight," she observed after a moment, seeming pleased.

Finn opened his mouth for a second before remembering to reply. "No kidding."

She pressed herself up against him. "We're going to be the best looking people there tomorrow," she told him, her voice low.

Finn swallowed audibly. _Control yourself, you numbskull!_ Oh jeez. He smiled at his girlfriend. "Do I get a sword?" he asked, changing the subject. He needed to think about something else before he found himself in trouble. It annoyed and excited him that Rachel was doing it on purpose. He knew it. She was sneaky.

Rachel moved back and laughed. "I'm not entirely sure," she answered, giving in to his question. "But they'll most likely tell us everything we need to know when we get there. Speaking of which, since we're newbies at this, I thought it would be a good idea if we arrived a bit early." She looked at him.

Finn had a little trouble keeping up with Rachel since she talked a lot faster than he could think, but he had caught the last part and winced. "How early?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Eight. A.M."

Finn was about to protest, but he looked at Rachel in her costume again and thought better of it. Very few things were worth waking up that early for, but Rachel in that dress most definitely was. And it would make her happy, and he had vowed to himself to make her as he possibly could. "Okay," he agreed.

Rachel was stunned. But Finn never failed to surprise her with the twists and turns of his heart. Because despite everything, Rachel still thought Finn had one of the biggest hearts of anyone she had ever known. She took his hand and said, "Come on. I promised my dads we'd make dinner for them tonight. We're having sorbet for dessert," she added, eying her boyfriend.

Finn grinned at her. "All right." He kissed her softly. "But first, I've _got_ to get outta this _corset!_"

* * *

**Yes? No? Meh?**

I'm almost tempted to write about their day at the fair, but I'm at your guys' behest. So whatever you'd like. Hopefully this didn't suck. o_O

Review and take care,  
ciao.  
x 


	3. Festival

**A/N: I'm leaving for a couple days so I figured I would just go ahead and update. This chapter is longer than the other two combined, just be warned. It's also different from the other two. Since Rachel obviously already persuaded him to do the fair, there's less: "Do this" "no" Please" "No way" "Just do it" "Okay." But don't worry, Rachel has her moments of crazy. And Finn has some of his own.**

**I really hope you don't think this totally sucks. So review and let me know.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Glee. If I did, there would be a Decemberists episode.**

* * *

"Ungh?" Finn grunted into the phone.

"Finn, get _up!_ You told me to call you so you would be up on time. Coincidentally, it requires you to actually get out of bed!" Rachel said loudly.

"Okay, okay," Finn relented, his brow furrowing. It wasn't like Rachel to be this snappy, even this early in the morning.

"It's important to make a good first impression," she told him seriously.

He wanted to tell her that they were only going to be there one day and after that, they'd never see any of those people ever again. But he refrained. Once Rachel was convinced of something, it was hard to change her mind. And at seven in the morning, he didn't figure it was worth the energy.

"We don't have to change before we get there, do we?" he asked. His voice was still gruff and sleep-laden, but he didn't care about that right now either.

"Of course not. It would be neither practical not comfortable trying to fit into your truck with our costumes on."

Oh, thank God. Any God. Gods? Whatever. All he knew was that his brain was functioning just well enough to remember where the bathroom was. He was pretty sure if he had to concentrate on trying to put on his costume, his brain would just totally fry. And then he would be _totally_ screwed.

Instead, he told her he'd be at her house in twenty minutes and hung up.

_Why am I doing this again?_

Oh, right. Rachel.

* * *

Rachel tried not to be nervous at Finn's lack of attention on the road. Every other minute, he would yawn and rub his eyes. What if in one of those instants, a semi came around the corner and slammed into them? Or what if he hit a dog? What if they got in a crash and died? Or worse, what if they got in a crash and she broke her legs? Then her show biz dreams would be nothing more than a broken promise. She'd end up like her mother! Bitter and despising the fact that she'd missed out on so much of life. Just as Rachel was about to demand Finn to hand over the wheel, he pulled into the parking lot of the event center.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, earning her a questioning look from Finn. She just smiled at him and opened her door.

Carrying the costumes into the changing areas was no small feat, Rachel discovered.

The event coordinators had, indeed, been impressed by the couple's early arrival. After glancing at Rachel appreciatively (Finn could feel his blood pump a little harder as he noticed the lingering looks at his girlfriend), they had told Finn and Rachel to get changed. Then a brief meeting would be conducted in which everything would be explained. Finn had shrugged his agreement, but Rachel had nodded excitedly. Before she could yak their ears off, he had pulled her in the direction of the dressing rooms. Just because he was used to Rachel's constant chatter didn't mean everyone else was.

Finn hoped the heat wouldn't be too unbearable today. He wasn't fond of the thought of sweating holes into the fine fabrics of his clothes.

"Finn," he heard Rachel call, somewhat reproachfully.

What did he do this time? He really couldn't think of anything. Yeah, a lot of times he didn't really think before he said or did something, but he was sure he'd been getting better with that.

Then her face cracked into a huge smile (his heart did some little girly, jumpy thing in his chest—Oh, God, he felt like he belonged on Oprah or something) and she laughed at him.

"Finn," she said again, this time with affection. "You at least have to wear the costume correctly."

"It's early," he tried to justify. He didn't really know what was wrong with it, but she just shook her head and laughed again. The next thing he knew, she was tugging his stupid giant pants down some.

"Rachel!" he yelped. "What the hell!"

"This has to be tucked in," she explained, fixing the hem on the doublet. He wasn't really thinking, so when she started moving her hands around to tuck the jacket into the waistband of his pants, he just stared at her. Then when he realized what was actually happening, he tried to jump back. _Not_ a good idea! Because of the placement of her hands, when Finn jumped, it only jarred Rachel and caused her hand to end up shoved inside the front of her pants. She tactfully removed her hand and cleared her throat.

Finn couldn't believe that had just happened. Why couldn't the ground open up and swallow him whole when he needed it to? "You should finish getting dressed," he told her awkwardly, noticing she was only wearing the gold under-dress thing that he couldn't remember the name of.

She nodded, but he could tell she was grinning. Finn had a sinking feeling the day would only get more embarrassing.

* * *

Finn desperately wanted coffee, but he didn't really trust _Enrico_, the fair's head coordinator. The guy was sketchy and smelled like rotting pineapples and hash. So he faked a grin and got through all the introductory crap, making sure to keep his arm securely wrapped around Rachel's waist. Man, that guy was a creep.

"I hope you both went to the bathroom," Enrico told them, his long, bony fingers scratching at his five o-clock shadow. "Because in an hour, when the festival officially starts, all that will be available are the outhouses." He clapped his hands together.

Outhouses? Finn tried to keep the look of horror off his face, but had a feeling he failed miserably.

"You never told me there weren't going to be real bathrooms!" he whisper-accused her.

"I didn't know!" was her defensive reply. "Besides, do you really think that would have changed your answer?"

Finn opened and closed his mouth several times before deciding that grumbling would be the best response. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rachel's smirk.

Boy was he whipped. He _had_ to learn to stop letting Rachel talk him into doing all these messed up things. Yeah. Fat chance.

Enrico interrupted Finn's thoughts by saying," If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be right back with your props." Props, huh? This, at least, Finn figured would be cool. "In the mean time, help yourselves to a scone. They're blueberry!"

Finn narrowed his eyes at the plate of fresh scones as if they were carrying some kind of fatal disease. They were probably poisoned .Or maybe they just had a Finn Hudson-specific poison that would make him and only him drop dead. Or something worse like make his junk shrivel up or make his face explode in pimples. He scowled. Obviously Enrico wanted a shot with Rachel (he had noticed all the looks). But Finn would do everything in his power to keep the little shit from nabbing his girlfriend—including resisting delicious-smelling blueberry scones. _Oh my God!_ he thought. He was becoming Rachel!

Puck was going to kill him.

Forty seconds later, the creeper in question returned and handed Finn a prop sword. It was totally lame compared to the one Finn had conjured (see, he _did_ listen when Rachel talked. Mostly) up, but he guessed it was better than nothing.

Finn pursed his lips disappointedly at the flimsy plastic and then shrugged, resigned.

"And for you, m'lady," Enrico said, laying on the corny medieval speak. Finn wanted to gag. The event coordinator placed a tiara on Rachel's head and then clasped a strand of jewels around her neck, making sure his hand brushed against her chest.

"You are _so_ lucky this thing is made of Play-Dough," Finn muttered, gripping the prop sword.

Rachel slanted him a harsh look, but then he saw the corners of her mouth quirk up. And suddenly he was reminded of why he was here in a jacket that felt like a girdle and carrying a Jell-O sword. He convinced himself that everything would be fine.

* * *

Rachel stared at the landscape surrounding them. The festival would officially start in about fifteen minutes and she couldn't decide if she was nervous or excited.

She had repeatedly needed to stop herself from giggling at Finn's quips and dagger glances at Enrico. To be fair, the head coordinator _did_ creep her out a little. Maybe it was the lazy eye or the fish-breath, but she disliked the prospect of having to report to him at various intervals throughout the day. However, she was trying to be as proactive as possible, so she would grin and bear it, as she'd heard Finn say several times.

She watched as families began spilling through the gates. She was determined to prove to Finn that today was going to be fun.

For the first hour, nothing particularly notable happened. They waltzed around the greenery, arms linked, watching college kids participate in drinking games and children latch onto the legs of finely-dressed courtiers.

It was only eleven in the morning and already hundreds upon hundreds of people had shown up. Some had gotten into the spirit and tried dressing in appropriate Renaissance attire. Others just worse casual twenty-first century clothes. A teenage girl in cutoffs kept glancing at Finn and Rachel felt the urge to tell her to back off, but Finn wasn't even paying attention. He was either engaged in watching the fencing display or staring at his girlfriend.

Rachel smiled to herself when she noticed a troupe of musicians playing on a slab of gray stone. Perfect!

"Come on," she said to Finn, taking his hand.

"Where are we going?" he asked, barely able to keep the apprehension out of his voice.

But she only smiled and pulled him toward the square.

The troupe was made of five men playing what Rachel recognized at a harpsichord and a lute. One was playing a primitive version of the hurdy-gurdy and she didn't recognize the other two instruments. She strolled over confidently and waited for them to end their song.

Finn had no idea what Rachel was doing, but he doubted it was anything he would agree was a good idea. He watched her warily as she came parading back over to him.

Finn cringed when he recognized the next song the performers played. And then Rachel was dragging him into the middle of the make-shift stage and before he could question her, she said, "I'll take the first verse and you follow my lead."

Finn was sure the abject terror was written plainly on his face, but he couldn't have cared less. "I'm not singing _'Greensleeves!'_" he hissed.

"Why not?" Rachel countered. "We sang it for your mom that one time!"

"Because it was her birthday and she threatened to show you the pictures from when my cousins dressed me up like a ballerina in eighth grade if we didn't!" he said through gritted teeth.

Rachel swallowed a laugh, remembering. "Finn," she coaxed, running her hands through his hair. "It's part of the elaborate Renaissance Fair experience! We've got to try our best to do it all!"

No. No no no no. No. "Fine." No! He meant to say no; absolutely not. What the hell! He cursed his mouth for betraying him. "Wai—" but before he could try to squeeze out a sentence, Rachel had started singing.

_"Alas my love, ye do me wrong to cast me off discourteously. And I have loved you so long, delighting in your company."_

Her voice floated around and flooded his senses. He took the next verse. It still surprised him to this day how complete singing made him feel. And when he sang with Rachel, it was like exploding. The good kind of exploding, though—like stars exploding. Not bombs.

He remembered learning "Greensleeves" in second grade. He still remembered all the words. By the time Rachel started singing again, they had drawn a crowd. He felt the pressure again—like he had when the six-person glee club had performed "Push It" in front of the whole school. He took a deep breath and reached for Rachel's hand. If had had to sing this song in _this_ outfit, he supposed he might as well go all-out.

The pants were starting to get itchy (or maybe it was the leggings) and he was starting to lose his concentration on the song, but he managed to plow through it.

A lot of people always told him, as he was growing up, that a sixteen-year-old couldn't possibly understand what love was. That was bullshit. No way would he be singing freaking _"Greensleeves"_ in front of a bunch of dorks who probably thought dragons were real for someone he didn't love.

Had he been expecting, or even hoping, to fall seriously in love when he entered his sophomore year of high school? Absolutely not. He'd been looking to score with the captain of the Cheerios. But as he looked over at his girlfriend—all smokin' in her royalty gown and belting her heart out in true Rachel Berry fashion—he knew what he got out of his most recent year of school was infinitely better than finally getting to play squeeze and squish with Quinn Fabray. Oh yeah, totally better.

Speaking of Quinn Fabray, Finn saw her walking with…her mother? Huh. He was about to wave to her when he realized where he was and what he was wearing. Pulling Rachel through the thunderous applause they'd gotten, he led her in the opposite direction of the ex-cheerleader.

"Finn, _what_ are you doing?" Rachel demanded. She was steaming from being taken away from their standing ovation.

He shushed her and pointed towards Quinn. "She'll see us!" he whispered.

"Oh, Finn! We've talked about this! If you'd just—"

Finn gently cupped his fingers over Rachel's mouth. "It's easy for you to say. You look all hot and gorgeous and perfect," he told her, his lack of filter taking effect. "So who cares if anyone we know sees you? But _I _look like a big, sparkly doofus! In drag!" He pointed to his boots.

He saw her eyes start to shimmer. Crap. "Look, Rachel. I'm sorry. I really am, but I just _can't_ let her see me. We can—"

But then she was clinging to him tightly and doing that thing he loved where she would snuggle into his neck. "You really think I look gorgeous?" she murmured.

Finn sighed with relief and righted her tiara. "Of course." He thought her smile might blind him, but then decided that if he had to lose his vision, this would be the only way he wouldn't go down kicking and screaming about it. It occurred to him that his younger self, from a year ago, would be kicking him in the groin right now. But now he understood the stars that were always in his mom's eyes and why Burt was always doing every little thing she wanted. Love turned you into a total girl.

"Is she gone?" Rachel asked.

"Huh?" Finn had been so caught up thinking that he'd forgotten why they were near a…chicken coop (?). Also, of all places to end up, a chicken coop? Seriously? Gross. It was then that he noticed dozens of beady bird eyes staring at him through the fence.

He looked around and didn't see Quinn, so he shrugged and walked back into the throng of people, eager to escape the glowering of those creepy chickens. Why was everything ten times weirder here than it was in real life?

Rachel was looking at him like he was crazy, which he found really funny because he was more than a little sure that _she_ was the crazy one.

"Finn, why are you talking to yourself?" He'd been talking? Out loud? He bit back a groan. That was embarrassing. "Has this been going on for a while or is it a new symptom? Oh, my God, Finn, do you have schizophrenia? I'll still love you if you do, but I can't _believe_ you didn't tell me! I could have—"

"Rachel!" he interrupted, a little louder than necessary. She fixed her eyes on him. "Chill," he said, holding his hands up.

"Sorry," he said, her cheeks flushing. "I've been working on it, but it seems there's no escaping my personality."

He chuckled. "I don't want to escape it. And I don't want you to escape it. I just want you to, you know, _chill._ You dragged me here. We may as well try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can, so at least I can feel like I did this for a reason. Although, it would be a lot cooler if they had some cool Renaissance Fair version of bull-fighting or something," he admitted. "It's mostly been chick stuff so far. Or Kurt stuff."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Let's go find something a bit more manly for you, then," she said, the sarcasm failing to fully mask the amusement.

Finn grinned at her and followed her through the crowd.

* * *

Finn had found this stint to be rather educational, after all. And not like the crappy, useless way like on that sixth grade field trip where the park ranger told them that the only way to tell the difference between moose poop and horse poop in the wild was to taste it. Yeah, okay, like he was _ever_ going to do that. He'd rather lick one of Puck's gym socks. No, this was useful information.

For example; there was this spot on Rachel's back, just barely above her butt (!) that she really loved being touched. He learned that when _Enrico_ had found them and offered Rachel a "tankard" of ginger beer while managing to step on Finn's foot. Finn had meant to place his arm around the small of her back to signal to Enrico to get the hell away, but when he had moved towards her, his foot had gotten stuck in the giant skirt of her dress. He tripped and his hand had landed quite a bit lower than he had planned. He heard Rachel's intake of breath and had prepared himself for her lashing about how they were in public and he was being inappropriate, but just made this kind of (really hot) mewling noise. So Finn tucked this tidbit of information away for future reference.

Enrico's assistant Jackson had found them some time later and explained that Finn had to change into a set of knight armor because part of his role was to play champion to the heart of the lovely princess, in this case played by Rachel. Rachel hadn't mentioned that to him, but he hoped he got to use something other than the sword he'd received earlier, which he'd tucked neatly into the scabbard at his side.

Finn was actually kind of glad Rachel talked him into this. He'd never tell anyone this, but he was almost having fun. He wasn't ever going to do it again, but he was content for a moment. Plus, it beat staying home and installing the new air conditioning unit that Burt had bought. He knew basically everyone would have laughed in Rachel's pretty face and told her, "Hell no!" He seemed to be the only on unable to do that. Upon further reflection, Finn wasn't sure if he envied those people or if he pitied them.

He let an attendant help him chose this armor since he had less than no idea what he was doing and just went along for the ride.

Rachel was waiting in the ring. She hoped this would turn out well enough. She wasn't sure if this was a good idea. Finn could barely walk without tripping; how was he supposed to maneuver around with a weapon? She figured this spectacle would be more cringe-worthy to watch than Finn dancing to Kanye.

On the other hand, he hadn't really complained like she thought he might. Sure, he'd been less than impressed with her "Greensleeves" idea, but he'd eventually gone along with it. She figured they'd come away from this experience and be closer as a couple. The prospect delighted her. She took her position.

It was after five when Finn finally came out. If he'd felt uncomfortable before, he'd just been being a baby (which he totally needed to fix). He was weighed down an extra forty pounds by sheet metal or something. He could only be glad they weren't making him ride a horse. Otherwise, he figured he'd be screwed. They'd stationed Rachel in a chair to the North end of the ring, behind a veil. Apparently these Renaissance folks were itching for mystery. Well, he could get down with that. Nobody was taking Rachel from him, even in pretend.

He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the announcer call out for the first contender to join him in the ring. Finn preferred the modern way of fighting for your girl: you slammed a guy's head into a locker and growled at him to stay away. But since he was here, he'd play by their rules. Well, if he could remember all of them.

Finn took in his competition. The guy was shorter than Finn, but that wasn't uncommon. He really hoped he'd be able to laugh about this someday. Finn barely paid attention as his sword (no, he hadn't gotten a cooler one, thanks) clanked against the other one. He knew the fight wasn't serious and they weren't allowed to actually hurt each other, but he was trying to make it cool for the kids. And for Rachel. The stray thought of Rachel caused him to falter momentarily, allowing the other guy to knock him to his knees. Crap. He needed to fix this.

"That's riiiiiiight!" the voice sing-songed.

Finn wanted to die. _"Mr. Schue?"_ he asked in disbelief.

_"Finn?"_ The glee club teacher's hesitation enabled Finn to get up and knock him to the ground, holding him there.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Finn wondered as the announcer declared him the winner.

"I'm babysitting my cousin's kids for the weekend. They said they come to this festival every year." His tone was strained. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Rachel."

Finn heard Mr. Schue laugh and, God; he just wanted to get out of there.

When they marched Rachel over, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the dressing room. He quickly threw the armor off (he was _so_ glad to be able to breathe again). He tried to explain why they had to leave and didn't know how to feel when Rachel just laughed at him.

"I wonder who was more embarrassed," she said as they walked.

"If I hadn't won, it definitely would have been me," he replied.

"Oh, Finn," Rachel said dramatically. It always made his knees a little weaker when she said his name like that. "It's not as if Mr. Schuester would actually have won my heart. That will always be yours."

He realized then that he would forever be at Rachel Berry's mercy. He was worse than the broken little puppy that had followed him around for a month when he was thirteen. Strangely enough, it didn't seem like such a bad way to live.

He was about to kiss her when he noticed where they had ended up. "How did we get here _again?_" Finn asked, keeping his eyes on those creepy little chickens. He was seriously starting to hate poultry. Nasty little buggers.

Before he could shrug and tell Rachel they should get out of there, he saw her eyes go wide. He turned around and cursed.

"Yo!" he called. "What're you doing?"

A truck (right, because they _totally_ had trucks in the 1500s. They didn't even have toothpaste!) was backing towards the coop. Obviously, the driver hadn't heard him. Finn and Rachel clambered out of the way, but not before the driver misjudged his distance and backed right through the fence. Swearing, he pulled up again and cut the engine.

Finn was convinced these chickens were mutants. Maybe they were radioactive or something. Like Spiderman. Regular chickens weren't this hostile and glower-y, were they? Because as soon as the escape route had opened up, dozens of chickens were running and flapping, making their way out. People in the vicinity were barreling away and Finn wasn't stupid enough to stick around and watch the show. He'd never been chased by chickens before, but he was finding he didn't like it.

"We are so leaving," he told Rachel, silently willing her to agree as they fought their way through the crowd of hysterical people and raging birds.

She nodded fearfully, stumbling in her costume. Deciding not to waste any time, Finn scooped her up and carried her to his truck.

"Finn! Finn! My dress!" Rachel was frantically trying to gather her skirts.

"Just shut the door on it!" he ordered.

He was surprised she listened to him, but she did. He took off. Once he got a mile or so out of the parking lot, he pulled over to the side of the road. And laughed.

"_What_ is so funny?" Rachel inquired hotly.

Breathing some, Finn explained," We just got chased out of a _Renaissance Fair _by a mob of angry _chickens!_" This brought on another round of hysterics. Oh, shit. He was going insane. For real this time! He was literally, completely going insane. And he wasn't even bothering to try and stop it. At least Rachel joined in this time.

When he could focus again, he looked at her. "We are _never_ doing this again."

"Hell no," Rachel swore, breaking her usual character.

Oh, yeah. He absolutely, positively loved her. No question.

* * *

"I knew the day was gonna be whacked, but that was something else," Finn said as he opened his front door for Rachel.

"I certainly expected things to go much more smoothly. But really, Finn, thank you for doing this for me. I know it wasn't at the top of your list of things to do this summer."

He smiled sideways at her. Despite everything, he'd still had more fun than he'd expected. But he wanted to keep her a little on edge. "Well, it's not like I can ever say no to you," he told her drily.

They were in his room now and Finn could feel his pulse snap a little harder. "I still have to make it up to you," she said, starting to unbutton the doublet. Boy was he glad to be rid of that thing. He sucked in an appreciative breath.

"Help me untie my laces," she commanded.

Finn arched an eyebrow, but obliged. "You're still going to make it up to me, right?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course. You'll get something out of this," she assured him. He shrugged; if she said so.

As his fingers brushed against Rachel's back, pulling at her laces, he felt her shiver. His own body reacted. His lips curved as he placed a kiss on the back of her neck, then her shoulder. Finn could hear her hum of pleasure and couldn't hold back the self-satisfied grin.

Yeah, she had definitely been right; she well on her way to making it up to him.

* * *

**Yes? No? Meh. I left the ending vague on purpose. Now whatever you want to happen can happen and whatever you don't want to happen won't.  
I've never been to a Renaissance Fair quite that crazy, but then I've also never been to one with Finn Hudson and/or Rachel Berry.**

****

Remember: I can't think of anything that would make me happier than coming home to an inbox full of review alerts. They keep me going.

**Take care.  
****Ciao,  
x. **


	4. Donor

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites and alerts. I appreciate all your feedback. I'm working on another Finchel fic right now. Like, an actual story with a plot line and stuff. I probably won't post it until I'm done with this, though. And I haven't actually decided how long I want this to be. I don't really know why I'm rambling about it right now. I think I'm just excited. Ahem.**

**Anyway, here's chapter four. It's a little heavier than the previous two, as I take inspiration for all of these from instances in my own life and tweak them to fit into the Finchel universe. I think a large part of Rachel's craziness is just her persistence in general. But I hope you guys like it anyway.**

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Glee. If I did, someone would be singing some K Dev. 

**Keep on reviewing! And sorry for the novel of an author's note.**

* * *

Finn grunted as Rachel shifted on top of him. He slid his arms tighter around the small of her back and kissed a line down her neck. Rachel was releasing small gasps and sighs that were driving him absolutely _insane._ He knew if he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to stop at all.

He gently pushed Rachel off of him and pecked her lips quickly as she frowned.

"Is something wrong, Finn?" There was concern in her voice.

He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. Nothing was _wrong,_ as it were, but it was definitely something way too embarrassing to actually talk about. So he shook his head and gave her a half-smile.

Satisfied, she turned to face him. "Well, there's something I wanted to discuss with you in any case."

Right there Finn knew he was in trouble. "Oh yeah?" he asked, trying to remain nonchalant.

"As you're aware, we're both sixteen," she stated. Uh, yeah. Okay. Where was she going with this?

Rachel took a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves riding in her stomach. She had a feeling Finn wasn't going to be in strong support of what she was about to suggest. But it was important to her, so she had to try. She hoped Finn would realize this.

"There's a blood drive at city hall this afternoon. I think we should go." She bit her lip. "Both of us. Together."

Finn glanced at her warily. "You want to give blood?" She nodded. "You want _me_ to give blood?" She nodded again.

He pursed his lips. "I don't know, Rachel…" He wasn't a big fan of needles. Or of people who stabbed him with them. This was a lot less far out than some other her other ideas, but he was still unsure.

"Please, Finn." She was tracing patterns on his palm with her finger. "It's important. And morally conscious," she added, hoping to appeal to Finn's sense of ethics.

Finn let out a breath. He looked at his girlfriend, debating with himself whether or not it was something he wanted to do. He wanted to help Rachel; wanted to make her happy. But couldn't she find something to do that didn't involve sharp, pointy objects?

Rachel could tell that he was less than thrilled about the proposal; she just needed a way to persuade him. She knew it would require her to be a little more personal. "My cousin Nathan has sickle cell anemia," she sighed. Nathan was her favorite cousin. "His case is very severe, requiring him to receive a blood transfusion every month. It inspires me to want to give back; to help people like him. But I don't want to do it alone if I don't have to." She felt her eyes get watery, but was determined not to let the tears fall. She shifted her eyes to Finn's and saw compassion in them.

Finn knew that without Rachel, he'd be a pretty crappy person. She touched something in him, in his heart. Her empathy for others spoke to him. So he nodded, resolute. "Okay. What time did you wanna go?"

Rachel beamed at him, grateful that she had such a truly wonderful boyfriend. "It's from one to six, so I figured we could arrive about five."

He shrugged. "Fine with me." He knew his mom would be proud of him. And so would Rachel. Before he could stop himself, he spoke. "I love you. You're the best person, I know, Rachel," he said, trying to pretend he hadn't sounded like a girl. He seriously needed to work on that.

But the look on Rachel's face told him that he'd said the right thing, so maybe it really wasn't that bad.

"I love you too, Finn." _And I always will,_ she added silently. She didn't want to scare him off or push him away again, so she would take what he was giving her now.

She leaned over to resume kissing him, climbing in his lap once again. _Oh hell,_ Finn thought and gave in, relishing the feel of her lips. He'd settle down later.

* * *

"What if they miss my vein, Finn? Or mistype my blood? They could kill someone that way! What if—" Rachel was babbling as Finn opened the door for her.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Rachel, babe, _relax._"

She huffed; he grinned. "It'll be fine," he assured her. "We'll just check in and go from there. Okay?"

She inhaled deeply and agreed. Leaning into his side, she said, "Thank you for coming with me."

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "It's no problem." He hoped.

"Do either of you have an appointment?" the lady at the desk asked. Noting their negative responses, she snorted and added them to the list. "Read these," she instructed and handed them each a folder. "And return them when you've finished."

Finn grimaced. No one had told him there would be reading involved. He didn't even know what most of the text was talking about. But no, he hadn't ever been outside the country for a period longer than three months (or ever); he wasn't feeling sick today; and he hadn't been exposed to someone with Hepatitis—as far as he knew, anyway.

"Do you have Hepatitis?" he whispered to Rachel.

She looked offended. "_Excuse_ me?"

He pointed to the page he was reading and she rolled her eyes. "No, Finn, I have _not_ contracted Hepatitis. And if _you_ have, you've got some _serious_ explaining to do!"

He chuckled at her dramatics. She shot him a quick, cutting glare before returning to her page.

"You can go first," Rachel said to him. "This way you can't get out of it."

Finn started to protest and then decided what the hell? He followed the woman into a booth and winced when she pricked his finger. After answering a _jillion_ questions on the computer, Finn signaled that he was ready. The woman, Sandra she'd said her name was, led him to a station and he lay down, trying not to think too hard about what was going to happen.

When a man in a blue coat gestured to Rachel, she smiled brightly and walked over to him. She was really excited to finally be doing this.

"I'm sorry," the man began.

"What?" she interrupted. "What for?"

"The minimum iron level in women to be eligible to donate is 12.5. Yours is only 12.2. But I can have someone check your other hand!" he added quickly.

Rachel pressed her lips together and nodded once. When her other middle finger revealed her iron level to be 12.3, the man looked at her regretfully. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "But you cannot donate today. But—" Rachel stopped listening to him. Her head was swimming and he knew her eyes would be too in a matter of seconds. She stuffed the papers he'd given her on iron-rich foods in her jacket pocket angrily and waited on the bench for Finn, head in her hands. What a disaster!

When Finn sat up, he was surprised to find that he didn't feel dizzy at all. It hadn't hurt too much either. He had gotten a little bored, but all in all, it wasn't nearly as horrible as he had expected. But then he saw Rachel crying silently into her palms and rushed over. "Rachel? Rachel, what's wrong?" He didn't even try to mask the worry in his voice.

She looked up at him sadly. "I can't donate. My iron's too low," she explained tearfully. "Finn, this is atrocious! I live my life entirely right. I don't understand!"

He pulled her off the bench and outside, where he gathered her into his arms. "Sshh," he whispered into her hair. He hated when she was upset. But then he had an idea. Not only that, but he was relatively sure it was a _good_ idea. (Hey, it happened every now and again!) "Come on." He took her back to his truck.

He stopped at the Farmer's Market. "Stay here," he told her, pressing a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'll be right back."

Finn shut his door and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that this would work. He had to believe it.

* * *

Rachel had to wonder what Finn could _possibly_ need at the Farmer's Market. Here she was, having a mental breakdown, her mood crushed—probably for several weeks. And he was stopping at a Farmer's Market as if he had nothing better to do than window shop for fresh cheese! She let out a groan of frustration.

When he returned, she noticed he was carrying two bouquets of flowers. Climbing into the driver's seat, he held one out to her and all her annoyance melted away. "These are for you." It was an assortment of different pink and pale yellow flowers.

"They're beautiful," she gushed, breathing them in. "What are the others for?" She had to admit, her curiosity was more than a little piqued.

But he only flashed her a small smiled and said, "Call your dads and tell them you'll be a little late. I wanna show you something."

Rachel was confused, but she did as he told her to. Her confusion only multiplied when Finn pulled over to the shoulder and parked in front of a cemetery almost an hour later. Grabbing the other bunch of flowers, he took Rachel's hand and led her down the path that wound around the cemetery.

"Finn, what—" But he just shushed her and squeezed her small hand.

About ten minutes later, Finn stopped in front of a grave. It was marble and shaped in a cross. It read:

**Crystal L. Danning**

"My mom's sister—my aunt," he explained as he set the flowers down. "She died when I was twelve."

Rachel still didn't understand why he'd brought her here, but her heart ached for him. "I'm sorry." She lowered herself down to sit next to him on the grass.

"She got in a real bad accident. Bled out. The doctors couldn't give her blood 'cause no one had donated in a while; they didn't have any. And no one was willing to donate last-minute." He picked at the grass in front of him and then turned to Rachel. "That story you told me—about your cousin—that really got to me. Reminded me of Aunt Crystal." He took in a slow breath.

Rachel put her hand on his thigh, showing him she understood.

The silence lasted a few more minutes before Finn broke it. "I know whenever I try to tell you something, I mess it up. But just listen, okay?" _Here goes nothing,_ he thought. "There will always be other blood drives. And I'll go with you to all of them," he promised.

Rachel searched his eyes with hers and found only honesty; only love.

"I mean, they gave you that list of stuff to eat, right?" She gave him an affirmative answer. "Yeah, so we can always go again. But, Rachel, even if it ends up that you can never donate blood, you've gotta know this. You're a performer." He had to think of how to say all this without sounding like a big, fumbling idiot. He could tell Rachel wasn't catching his drift.

"You help people every day," he continued. "I mean, yeah, blood keeps people alive. But music, the arts—all that stuff—it makes people _feel_ alive. And that's just as important. If not more. And you give people that every time you sing, you know? So just…don't forget that, okay?" He looked at her awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.

She had tears in her eyes again, but this time, they were of gratitude. Of love and passion.

"Finn," she murmured with a lump in her throat. She scooted closer to him, snuggling into his warm body. "You didn't mess that up at all."

He smiled at her and smoothed her hair down with his hand, resting his head on hers. He knew he'd screwed up with Rachel plenty of times, but it was really awesome and comforting and everything to know he could get something _right_ every once in a while.

Love flowed warm and gold inside Rachel, making her feel all gooey and…well, _perfect._ The idea of being miserable for weeks was suddenly abandoned because she had Finn. She was overbearing and too focused sometimes and she knew it. But she had also known from the beginning that it would be Finn that would hold her heart.

She watched the sun start to set and knew what whatever happened in her life, from now on, everything would work itself out in the end.

Because she had Finn. And, as he'd demonstrated multiple times, he would do just about anything for her. What more could she even ask for?

* * *

**Review and let me know your thoughts. I love checking my email and getting review alerts.**

**Take care!  
Ciao,  
x **


	5. Hydro

**A/N: I'm trying to get as much posted as I can before the inevitable fall semester starts up. **

**Anyway, here' the next chapter. Hopefully it isn't disappointing. Thanks for the reviews and by all means, keep on reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sigh**

* * *

"Thanks, Rach." Finn looked at the sandwich Rachel had set in front of him. They were lounging on a blanket in Finn's backyard, reveling in the summer heat.

"You're welcome, Finn," Rachel said cheerily, about to bite into her own.

But then he looked at his again and frowned. Something was off. "Wait. What's on this?"

"Tomato."

"And?" Surely there was more on it than just _tomatoes_ on it. You couldn't make a sandwich with just tomatoes (and bread). Could you?

"Well, yours has mayonnaise and a hint of salt on it as well." She patted his hand and he tried to ignore the jolt it sent through him. "Just eat it, Finn. Tomatoes are a summer crop. Enjoy them while you can."

He pursed his lips, skeptical. "That's great and everything, but where's the, you know…meat and stuff?"

His girlfriend clucked her tongue cholerically. "You're completely welcome to make your own lunch."

_That_ got his attention. "No. Uh, thanks. This looks great." He knew she could probably tell his enthusiasm was fake, but he took a bite anyway. Surprisingly enough, it was…good! Okay, yeah, would he have preferred a burger? Totally. But since his taste buds were in no way protesting, he chowed down.

Rachel watched him with smug satisfaction. He had finished just as she was about to take the last bite from her first half. She laughed at the look he gave her.

"I wasn't expecting it to be that good," he explained sheepishly.

"I know. But in a fashion similar to my day to day life, my culinary works are full of surprises. Mostly valuable and advantageous ones," she added as an after-thought.

He rewarded her with his trademark lop-sided grin and agreed. It was weird how they had come together, fallen apart, and then come together again. But Finn could only take it as a sign that they were meant to be together. And who was he to question signs? Maybe if he were Jesus or Dr. Phil or the guy who invented peanut butter. But he wasn't. He was just Finn Hudson. For a while, that had bothered him. And then he'd met Rachel and—more importantly—become worthy of her. So he didn't think it was such a bad thing anymore.

Rachel finished her sandwich and got that look on her face when she was about to ask him something risky. He had come to recognize (and anticipate) that look (especially since he always ended up giving in to it).

"What is it?" He figured he wouldn't beat around the bush. He knew she was about to ask him for a favor. So why make her suffer the awkwardness of finding a place to start?

"I—well," she began, flustered (and delighted) that Finn could read her so well. "I've scheduled my road test for the end of the summer. And I was wondering if perhaps you would take me out over the next couple weeks for practice? My dads offered to pay for professional lessons, of course," she went on, wishing he would take her hand or give her that lazy smile. "But I'm inclined to believe that lessons would be more effective and better suited to a person who is well-acquainted with my somewhat unpredictable personality. And someone who isn't constantly annoyed by it. And that leaves, well…you."

She wasn't look at him anymore. In fact, she expected him to finally put his foot down and say absolutely not and run out, accusing her of being insane. But he just looked thoughtful, like he was considering it.

Finn bit down on his tongue lightly; a habit he had when he was thinking hard. It would be kind of fun. But at the same time, he thought about _his_ experiences driving and maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He was probably the _worst_ candidate for Rachel's driving instructor. Then again, he really didn't like the idea of Rachel getting stuck learning with some middle-aged scumbucket who was going to bitch and moan about every little thing, especially seeing as dramatics were ingrained into her. And having a diva episode wouldn't help her case. _At all._ Learning to drive should be an experience she not only learned from, but sort of enjoyed too. After all, _he'd_ been taught by someone who loved him, right? So why shouldn't Rachel? Maybe it would be okay. Maybe _he_ could be okay.

"All right," he conceded finally. The smile and the wet, passionate kisses that made his blood boil that she gave him indicated that he'd made the right choice.

"Do you wanna start now?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically.

He showed her to his truck and grinned as she climbed into the driver's side, grumbling about his "abnormal and inconvenient height."

He could only hope he wouldn't come back with a brand new image to bring to mind next time he reacted too, ah, strongly to any of Rachel's touches.

* * *

"Rachel! Slow down!"

She yanked her foot off the accelerator and Finn's heart settled back into his chest. "You're not doing bad," he told her honestly. "But you're going way too fast."

Rachel squared her shoulders, already preparing her defense. "Well, at least I'm not going to hit anyone. Everybody seems to be otherwise occupied today," she observed, noting how empty the streets were. "Well, except for the mailman right there, but I'm confident I won't hit him."

Finn coughed noisily, choked, and tried to keep his eyes from bugging out of their sockets. After clearing his throat, he said, "Uh, yeah. You don't wanna hit the mailman." _Trust me._

Rachel gauged Finn's face for a moment, unconsciously swerving onto the shoulder. She missed the curb by a narrow margin.

"Keep your eyes on the road at all times, babe." No distractions.

She was actually doing really well, Finn thought. There were a few minor things, but they could be worked on. She was doing a hell of a lot better than _he_ had done when he started driving. So, yeah, he had been looking forward to a summer where he would get to feel her lips move against his, where he'd get to run his fingers down her lithe little body all the time. But this was okay too, he guessed. At least he got to spend time with her. And it beat the hell out of moping around all summer because she was with another guy.

Plus this gave him time to really think. Granted, that wasn't something Finn generally did a lot of, but maybe that was the problem. It was weird because he used to think being popular was the most important thing in the world. Of course he still liked the idea of it; it was normal to want people to like you. But it was just…different with Rachel. In a good way. She had made him into a person who believed he would actually be able to get out of the cesspool state of Ohio.

Absently, he wondered about life after high school. Would Rachel still be in it? (Physically, he meant. He knew she would always be a part of him emotionally and stuff). He really hoped so. He could see them—in the future—with little Finnettes and whatever the manly version of Rachel was. Of course, he did want a daughter who would take after her mother. She would—God why was he even thinking about this? What if Rachel decided he wasn't worth it and left for New York without him? _Okay, crazy train, just take it one step at a time._ They hadn't even started their junior year yet. He needed to chill.

Rachel noticed the dreamy smile on Finn's face as she turned into his driveway and wondered what had caused it. It had _better_ not be a thought of a Cheerio. But she honestly didn't think (or assume) that it was. Finn had grown a lot (as a person—she was convinced he couldn't get any taller) over the past year. And, well, he loved her. She certainly believed that he did. It was a relief to finally be able to act fully on the acutely poignant feelings she had for him. Then again, she had a tendency to see through to the best of people anyway. _Okay. Enough with the paranoia,_ she scolded herself.

She watched as Finn frowned suddenly and smiled widely when he faced her.

"It really wasn't that bad." He removed his seatbelt and looked into those deep, drowning eyes of hers. "I mean, sometimes you drive like the back end of the car's on fire. But not bad." He grinned adorably and Rachel tried not to melt into a puddle in the driver's seat.

"Same time tomorrow?" He raised a brow in inquiry and smirked when she nodded and maneuvered herself into his lap.

* * *

Of course the next day, it _had_ to be pouring rain.

"Rach, are you sure this is a good idea?" Finn was concerned; she was pretty inexperienced as a driver and the roads were terrible.

True to the Rachel Berry modus operandi, she placed her hands on her hips defiantly. "Finn, if I'm going to become an adequate driver, I have to be able to navigate impeccably regardless of the weather conditions."

He knew it would be futile to protest, so he had no idea why he had tried anyway. Instead, he brushed his lips over hers and squeezed her shoulder gently. "Hop in, then."

She obliged gracefully and listened intently as he explained how to operate the windshield wipers. She was a quick study. Of course, she had to be. How could she adapt to multiple Broadway roles if she were unable to pick up skills and instructions at the drop of a hat? Driving was actually rather easy, as it were. Maybe if she did just as well today, Finn would congratulate and, er, reward her the same way he did yesterday. She got shivers just from _thinking_ about the way he had kissed her, all passion and need. She licked her lips, remembering how his fingertips had slid all over her searing skin. Oh, these were dangerous driving thoughts! But still…

"Rachel! Rachel, we're hydroplaning! Watch out." Finn attempted to grab the wheel, but was too late. The front end of his truck was already sitting in a ditch. His shoulders slumped, but he recovered when he detected Rachel's hysteria.

She was sobbing into the steering wheel, muttering incoherently. "Rachel, babe. Hey!" He nudged her shoulder. She looked up at him through watery eyes. He used his thumbs to wipe away the tear tracks. "Hey, look," he said softly. "It's okay. We're not in that far; we'll be fine."

She nodded, but he could tell she didn't believe him. She refused to be consoled. How could she have been so idiotic! Mooning over memories that distracted her from the task at hand. It was despicable! She heard Finn sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She didn't tell him she meant she was sorry for everything. Everything that had caused him pain or somehow adversely affected him.

Unbuckling the seatbelt, he tried to climb over the gear shift. It was uncomfortable, but it was Rachel, so it was worth it. "The rain's letting up," he murmured. "We'll be able to get the truck out. Don't sweat it. And I should have explained hydroplaning before we even started driving today!" He wanted to kick himself in the balls. How could he have forgotten that? "Just be careful when it rains. If there's too much water between the tire tread and the road, you'll lose traction and it will be really hard to control the vehicle."

Rachel's eyes flashed with determination and she told him that yes, she would indeed help him remove his truck from the ditch. Since it was almost entirely her fault it landed there anyway.

Two hours, a gallon of sweat, and twenty gallons of rainfall later, they had managed to pull the damn truck out of the ditch. Finn was extremely appreciative of that fact because the last thing he wanted to do was call him mom to come dig him out. Well, second to last. He would rather ask his mom than Mr. Hummel.

"I'll drive back." Rachel didn't protest. She figured a break was much needed and would aid in recuperation, preparing her for tomorrow's lesson.

The couple arrived back at Finn's house soaking wet, their clothes dripping all over the Hummels' flooring. Rachel felt bad about it, but Finn assured her that he'd clean it up. He was about to suggest they get changed, but was overcome with the sudden (well, not really _that_ sudden) urge to kiss her, so he did. And she responded, so he kept at it, needing her to know that no little screw up while driving was going to have negative repercussions on their relationship. He swallowed up her moans and prayed that he wouldn't explode.

He just _had_ to touch her, to love her. And so when her tongue reached the roof of his mouth and he loosed a sort of embarrassing growl, he just let it slide. He felt her fingers combing through his hair and wasn't sure if the goose bumps rose on his body from her touch or from the droplets of water it was displacing onto his neck. Nor did he care. Pressing into her, he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

Just then, Kurt stomped through the front door, not at all pleased with how the rain had mussed up his perfect hair.

He eyed the couple's antics with distaste. "Dear God, _please_ do not reincarnate the drama of Babygate," he derided. "And keep it down! I can't hear myself daydreaming." He stalked down the stairs into his bedroom.

Finn and Rachel stood broken apart and looked at each other, abashed. And then they both laughed at the ruined moment.

Well, they thought simultaneously. There was always room to make up for lost time. Rachel followed Finn up to his bedroom for a change of clothes. It was strange and wonderful, but just being with Finn felt like home.

And in a place like Lima, a home was what you waited your whole life to find. Rachel was glad she'd found hers at the ripe age of sixteen. She'd found where she belonged.

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**Review! I get way more inspired to write when you do.**

Thanks in advance!

Ciao.  
Take care,  
x. 


	6. Labyrinth

**A/N: Thanks for all your support guys. Here's the deal: I leave for my fall semester on Thursday. If you want another chapter up before then, I suggest you review. Because after I leave, I'm not sure the next time I'll be able to update. It could only be two weeks. Or it could be over a month. =O Dozens of people have this on their alert list. If you're one of those people, I'd encourage you to review. Thanks in advance.**

**Also, I know the last couple chapters haven't been as humor-oriented, so I hope you guys don't mind. This chapter's really dialogue-driven. Sorry about that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Glee. If I did, we'd get some NMH love.**

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"You know, I'm kinda glad my mom and Burt decided to take this trip after all."

Rachel smiled up at Finn and rested her head on his shoulder. "Well I, for one, couldn't be more grateful that your mom extended the invitation to me."

He chuckled at her over-the-top vocabulary and followed after her as she skipped ahead. "I wanted to show you something!" she called.

Curious, he shuffled to keep up with her. After about fifteen minutes, she stopped at a giant…maze? Maybe she just wanted to take a break or something…

She turned and flashed those pearly whites at Finn and his knees felt a little weaker, but he remained standing. He half-smiled uncertainly and waited for her barrage of mostly unidentifiable words.

But all she said was, "We should try it."

"Try…what?" he asked, confused.

She gestured toward the pattern of bricks arranged in a bunch of circles.

"You want to run a rat maze?"

She slanted him a look that indicated she was questioning his sanity. "Finn, this is a labyrinth," she explained. "Not a maze. The point is to follow the path to the center. It's supposed to be very relaxing. Come on!"

Finn decided he would ask her the difference between a maze and a labyrinth later. "How is walking around in a circle and getting dizzy gonna relax me? It usually just makes me want to puke." He could think of _plenty_ of other things for them to do that would be relaxing…

Rachel rubbed her lips over the pulse in his throat and smirked when he groaned. She had _way_ too much power over him. "All you have to do is reach the center," she breathed.

Yeah, like he could say no _now._ "I guess it couldn't hurt." He sighed. He would be forever at her mercy, even if they didn't end up spending their lives together (which he was refusing to think about). God, he was pathetic. He almost wanted to check and see if he even still had balls.

Rachel stood near the entrance, taking large, meditative breaths. When she opened her eyes, she saw Finn stepping over the barriers and into the center. "What're you doing! Besides cheating!" she added cheekily.

He pulled an innocent face. "You said all I had to do was get to the middle!"

She rolled her eyes. "Get back here and do it correctly!" she ordered.

Cowed, Finn scuffed over behind her. She took his hand, kissing the tips of his fingers. "It'll relax you, I promise."

Rachel was taking slow steps; he followed behind her carefully, still clutching her hand. They didn't talk. Rachel had said not to, mentioning that it would "disrupt the meditative atmosphere." As he was winding round and round, Finn's mind drifted off into a comfortable oblivion.

Rachel knew that they were getting close now. She came to a halt, just before the opening to the inner-circle. She spun around to look at Finn, smiling at his boyish charm and the spattering of freckles that spanned across his face. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and pulled him into the center. She opened her bag, placing the contents on the dirt below. She threw a small blanket down and motioned for Finn to sit.

Finn looked on in wonder as Rachel set up elaborately. She sprinkled some kind of flower petal mix and lit a few short candles. "What's all this for?" he whispered, hoping she wouldn't think he was being troublesome if he talked quietly. Apparently she didn't.

"To set the mood," she whispered back. Noting Finn's lack of response, she continued. "This is a really special place, Finn. Moving epiphanies and self-discoveries happen here. This adds to the effect."

Finn smiled, thinking he actually got it. He didn't know what else to say, though.

"I used to wish my mother would bring me here and explain everything." _Before I found out who my mother actually was._ Her voice was so soft and broken, Finn almost thought he was just hearing things.

With his usual tactlessness (which he would probably later berate himself for), he asked, "Why?"

Rachel gazed at him cautiously, but detected no malice. "Because it's a place of calm and reflections. I assumed in a setting such as this, we would be more likely to walk away with less hard feelings."

Finn rubbed small circles on Rachel's back, attempting to provide comfort. "This is beautiful, Rachel," he told her with sincerity. "You're beautiful. Inside and out."

She turned her face up, smiling graciously and priding herself in finding such an utterly fantastic boyfriend. "Thank you." Annoyed that her voice had cracked, she cleared her throat. This time when he spoke, her voice was quiet, but strong. "We used to walk the labyrinth once a week when I went to summer camp at age thirteen. I've since maintained a deep respect for them."

He grinned, although he was sort of disappointed she had changed the subject. He liked the placid, melancholy Rachel every now and then and searched for a way to bring her back. "When I was a kid, I used to pretend my dad was still alive, like an imaginary friend almost. I would think how he made the best hot chocolate…"

Rachel pressed a hand over her heart and the other over Finn's, touched. That he would share that part of himself, the anguish contained in his past without prompting, she knew without a doubt that he and only he would love her fully; in ways no one else ever could. All the mistakes he'd made and the scars he's left on her heart; none of that mattered now. Just has she hoped the hurt she'd caused him didn't mean much to him anymore either.

"Did your mom ever know?" She didn't want to sound pushy or overbearing, but it intrigued her. _He_ intrigued her.

Finn stalled on answering. Eventually, he just told her the whole tale. "And when I was ten, my mom heard me talking to him. She told me that ghosts don't exist, that dad was never coming home. Then she grounded me for two weeks," he ended. His voice was low, full of forgotten regret. Rachel rested her hand on his shoulder, inching over to be closer to him.

"Finn…" she trailed off. She lifted one of the unlit candles from her bag. "Light this," she suggested.

He quirked an eyebrow. He wanted to ask her why, but refrained. Edging the wick toward the flame of the candle on his left, he watched as it caught. He dropped his eyes to hers, wondering what she was going to do next.

Gently, Rachel took the candle from him. She inhaled the scent of the woods and prepared herself for succumbing to clichés. "This represents the flame you lit inside my heart," she explained quietly. "And it will always burn for you. If you ever need or want anything, Finn, remember that." She set the candle down and looked up at him.

There was that deep, dreamy smile on his lips. He fixed her delicate hand over his rapid heartbeat. "This," he said seriously. "It beats for you. I know that sounds corny and stupid, but it's true. I wouldn't be who I am now without you, Rachel." He hadn't planned to get all sappy and emotional on this trip, but with Rachel, things rarely went as he expected them to. He had come to love that. The way her eyes glossed over and filled up had his stomach doing flip-flops. She threw her arms around him and whispered something he didn't quite catch into the skin of his neck.

Letting go of him, she nestled herself in between his legs and leaned against him. She threaded her fingers through the flower petals and sighed contentedly. "I did some research on rituals involving labyrinths. Of course, none of them included making meaningful conversation with your significant other, but I like to think we made our own valued custom." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "It would be wonderful if they could build a labyrinth voluminous enough for all of the students at William McKinley to walk. Imagine if we all met in the center and meditated. I think we would have a significantly less hateful environment."

Rachel felt Finn's chest resonate with mild laughter. "Unfortunately, I don't think Figgins or even Puck could force Karofsky into one of these."

"Well, if we drugged them first," she amended.

Finn barked out a surprised laugh, causing Rachel to grin brightly. Since the mood had changed to a more playful one, she reasoned that they should probably walk back. She related this to Finn and he agreed with a simple nod, helping her fold up the blanket.

"We'll leave those here." She signified that petals and candles.

"Maybe someone else can use them to help change their life," Finn only half-joked. Honestly, they _had_ changed something in him. Or rather, they helped Rachel change something in him. And he now no longer doubted.

This time, Finn led the way around the labyrinth, Rachel in tow. Again, no conversation flowed. All that needed to be said had been already, and both teenagers' heads were swimming.

As they hit the end, Finn reached for Rachel's hand. She aimed an inquisitive look at him as they headed back to Burt and Carole's camp site. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for understanding her silent question.

"You know, it actually kind of worked," he admitted.

"Really?" Rachel could barely contain her smug excitement.

He leaned over a pressed a few kisses to her jaw before answering. "Yeah. I mean, I actually kind of feel, like, relaxed and stuff. It's nice."

"Oh, Finn Hudson," she drawled. "You have such a way with words!"

To her fruition (and relief), he laughed. And she fell in love with him all over again.

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**Thoughts? Thanks for sticking with me and remember what I said about reviewing!**

**Take care!  
Ciao,  
x **


	7. Vocab

**A/N:**_ I think I am going to start writing my author's notes in italics from now on. Anyway, I decided to update once more before I left. So I sincerely hope you appreciate it._

__

Fact of life: If you guys keep up the reviews, then I will try my hardest to update regularly while I'm at university. Keep that in mind.

_Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee. Sadly._

**Note:**_ I know you guys got this chapter already, but I had to reformat some things and it wouldn't work when I tried to just replace the chapter. So I had to reupload the entire chapter. Sorry about that. _

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Rachel smiled at Finn from across her kitchen table. Since he had agreed to give her driving lessons (which were going quite well, thank you), she had decided it was only fair to give him something in return. She knew his marks in school were less than wholly impressive, so she'd badgered him into short tutoring sessions. Oh sure, he had protested relentlessly, but there was little her short skirts and demanding personality couldn't accomplish when she used them—especially together. He mostly needed help with vocabulary, comprehension and physical sciences, she had ascertained. He hadn't even seemed to know that he was actually rather history-savvy and his algebra and geometry skills were proficient. She just had to get him to apply himself more. After all, she fully expected him to come with her to New York, and he would be eaten alive by the city and its expectations if he didn't have a proper education.

So, here they were, about to start vocabulary lesson number one. She had given him a deck of flashcards to study over the last week. And now was…well, it was like a test. "I trust you've been keeping up with your studies?" He gave an affirmative grunt. "While memorization is a useful skill, knowledge always trumps it. Therefore, I am going to say one of the words from this deck of cards. But instead of you relating to me the definition I provided, you'll use the word in a sentence. Easy enough, yes?"

Finn rolled his shoulders, inwardly groaning. He _had_ been studying the words—mostly because he had assumed Rachel would give him some kind of quiz like this (though it was sort of gratifying to be right about something). But the whole forming sentences thing wasn't his forte. Like, at all. It was like asking Hitler to show compassion. He mostly just stumbled around words and strung them together awkwardly—like a tangible representation of that time his mom had made him fix popcorn on strings for their Christmas tree. In the end, it had been disastrous; it had looked like a three-year-old with a lazy eye had produced it. So the fact that Rachel wanted him to form coherent sentences at barely eleven in the morning didn't sit well.

Especially since he'd mostly been working on all this weird chemistry stuff with her the week before, in preparation for his junior year classes. It was kind of cool—he was a dude, so the prospect of blowing stuff up was fervent in his mind. But he'd discovered it wasn't easy. Although, all of his previous "tutoring sessions" had resulted in hot (super hot, like early pearly hot, though he wasn't sure if Rachel had caught onto it yet—how embarrassing would that be! Oh God, he wanted to blow chunks at the thought of it. Was it possible to die of humiliation?) making out that had led to the kind of heavy petting he'd only had (really sexy) wet dreams about. He had a split second to hope he hadn't said any of that aloud unconsciously before feeling Rachel run the tips of her fingers down his cheek and neck. He regained his focus (sort of) and fixed her with a half-smile.

"Finn, what are you thinking about?" she asked, radiating concern.

Somehow he didn't think _"Oh, well I was just thinking about how I've been having these really erotic dreams about us lately that have me blowing baby batter out of my Jap's eye before even the sun is willing to get up. Do you know how many times I've had to change my sheets this week?"_ would be an appropriate thing to say, especially given the current situation.

"Erm, I'm just…making sure I can remember the words right." He was totally BS-ing his way through this, but her confident smile had him believing he'd said the right thing.

She clapped her hand together, studying the word on the first card. "Vessel."

Finn's face scrunched up in concentration. Crap. Wait, wait…it was coming to him. Now he needed a sentence. Why couldn't he have a dictionary or thesaurus built into his brain? "Um, French fries exist only as a vessel in which to consume ketchup...?"

Rachel stared at him disbelievingly and then couldn't contain the laughter that erupted from her throat. He shrugged; she'd never said they had to be intelligent sentences, and if that was what she was looking for, she was asking the wrong boyfriend. No, wait. She didn't have any other boyfriends. He was pretty sure she didn't, anyway. He didn't think Rachel would be able to resist talking about any other beau(s) she would have had, considering her inability to resist talking about _anything_. He also knew she was the most honorable person he knew, and she loved him and would totally _never_ jip him by having another boyfriend. He was pretty sure he was bigger than any other guy she could have too (and yes, he meant that in multiple ways). Why was even thinking about this? It had nothing to do with "assiduous," which was the word Rachel had just assigned him.

Well, his response was rather delayed. Time to butter her up with some Finn Hudson flattery (patent pending) and hope it worked. "My super cool girlfriend is helping me become a more assiduous student."

Mission accomplished if the mile wide smile gracing her lips was any indication, and he was pretty sure it was. Rachel was a great actor, but she was also really emotional. So that made it pretty obvious when he had been a dick (even if he didn't understand how) so he could go about patching up. He'd gotten used to and come to really appreciate her plethora of expressions. And well, that smile had to be one of his favorites.

Finn was so wonderful, Rachel thought dreamily. She knew he was employing his impeccable charm and almost had enough self-control to condemn herself for falling into it. But she was a sixteen year old girl; there was plenty of time to learn proper self-restraint, although her sixth sense hinted that it would never be acquired when it came to Finn Hudson. She was impressed that he really was taking his studies seriously for her. Granted, all his sentences were coming out strange (though adorably Finn-like), but they were correct, so she couldn't fault him. "Next is the word semblance," she told him, her visage taking on amusement at his blank look.

Finn searched his brain for that word. Damn it. He was doing kind of okay up until now. There always had to one little thing that could mess up a whole _big_ thing. He wouldn't have cared so much if it didn't always have to happen in _his_ life. All he wanted was a break. The sultry stare Rachel was aiming at him made him both really anxiously lose his concentration and motivated to find the meaning of the word in the recesses of his mind. Her lips smacked a little as she parted them and _what was she doing_ because his breath was starting to hitch. She was gazing down at his lips and he wondered if she was seriously going to kiss him or if she was just teasing him. Unfortunately, it was probably the second for now, since as much as he'd gathered that she liked kissing him (and all the little breathy moans and gasps let him know that she was _totally_ into it), she was very serious about studying. She slowly tucked a strand of glossy hair behind her ear and his head was spinning and his chest was all tight and oh shit, was he having a stroke? "I need some semblance of self-control," he muttered sardonically.

He lifted his head up as Rachel's rich laugh reached his ears. Damn it, he needed a filter, although he didn't think she was mocking him. She seemed genuinely entertained by his thoughtlessness when it came to forming normal speech patterns. He shrugged; at least she wasn't running out the door. Or well, pushing _him_ out the door. Since this was her house and Finn was relatively sure that she wanted to stay here.

Could Finn _possibly_ be any more enchanting? He owned every part of her; fully consumed her life. Oh yes, she was still intent on becoming a multiple award-winning Broadway actress; she doubted that would ever change. But it was too depressing to even _think_ about imagining a life without Finn in it. So she wouldn't. "Lascivious."

Finn could hear the smirk in her voice and wondered what that was about. Okay, he definitely had no idea what that word meant. He'd studied those words like eight times (silently thanking Rachel to be fussy enough to put them all in alphabetical order), but he seriously didn't remember this one. Maybe… "That word wasn't in the cards! It definitely wasn't," he insisted.

Again with the smirk. "You _have_ been studying. I was just testing you. Lascivious means lustful," she added breathily after a moment.

And then Finn's eyes were widening and he'd had enough of this. They'd been playing teacher-student for over an hour and that was good enough for now. More than good enough. Doing his best to smile sensually (he was really made for the whole affable grin thing, but he was willing to try out new territory), he announced huskily, "Then I'm gonna kiss you _lasciviously_, Rachel_."_ _Taste of your own (delicious) medicine and all that._ Rachel barely had time to note the mischievous glint in his eye. Then he was rising and scooping her up and settling her legs around his waist, hoping, praying, trying so hard to not lose it. Not this time.

Rachel mewled as he ravaged her mouth, tightening her arms around his neck. His hands were everywhere and he had to lean her backside against the refrigerator to keep from falling over. Finn had always had a rather, ah, feisty side (and Rachel had never discouraged him), but this was new even for him; the fierce, carnal desire. And Rachel would be damned if she didn't thoroughly enjoy it. But—_oh. Oh, wow_. Okay, it wasn't even worth trying to form a thought anymore because it was too distracting and all she wanted was to feel Finn feeling _her_. So she clenched her legs tighter around him and smiled, self-satisfied, when his head rolled back as she trailed kisses down his jaw and neck. _Leaps and bounds._

Some time later, just as she was certain she was going to explode or implode with an overwhelming passion she hadn't experienced before, she heard him mutter, "Damn it."

"What is it?" Her concern for him overruled to need to be physically close to him.

Finn was grateful she hadn't yet noticed that the obvious tent that had occupied his pants for the last twenty minutes had deflated. Okay, it wasn't as bad as when he used to blow after, like, two minutes. But Jesus, was something _wrong_ with him? He shook his head and kissed her chastely. "It sucks, but I've gotta get out of here. Burt's having his family over and I've got to meet them all." It actually wasn't a lie, and he appreciated the coincidence. Though he couldn't deny he would _much_ rather spend the day wrapped up in (and having her wrapped _around_ him) than meet Kurt's uncles and stuff. But he'd promised, and well, there was always tomorrow...

She nodded regretfully, holding on to him just a bit longer. "Don't forget about your lessons!" she called as he was heading down the driveway. "Same time tomorrow?"

He turned and shot her a grin, absently reminding himself to stop at the store on the way home. He had a feeling he would need to pick up a dozen new sets of sheets.

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_And there you go. I hope you aren't disappointed.  
Reviews are much appreciated._

_Take care.  
Ciao,  
x _


	8. Friend

**A/N:**_ And we have another chapter! Although, I've got to ask, was the last chapter bad? Or what? I got a little discouraged by the lack of reviews, though I did seem to get a lot of new alerts. Which I don't understand, but I'm not complaining. Anyway, thanks to those of you who have reviewed. I appreciate it immensely._

Also, just to be cliché, I'm going to do a plug:  
I've got two other Finchel stories that I've written. The first is ongoing still and is called Nothing to Hide. It's considerably more angsty than this (though I imagine that isn't hard to do) and is based on a what if from the "Power of Madonna" episode.  
The other one is a one-shot and sort of a future-fic, I guess. And it's a little angsty, though mostly it's just sad. But I'm actually kind of proud of it, and that's a first for me.  
_So it would mean a lot to me if you would read/review one or both of those because I work hard on everything. I would be eternally grateful. And I know some of you already have, so thank you SO much for supporting me as an author. It's super awesome._

_That aside, disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee or its affiliates._

_And I hope you enjoy this chapter. If so, (or even if not), leave a review!_

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Finn rubbed slow, soothing circles into Rachel's back, glad for once that he had bear mitts for hands. She wiped away the last of her tears with the heel of her palm and grumbled when she noticed the black smudges on her hand. She had always known she was a _tad_ emotional, but she couldn't help it.

"We should do it," she suggested softly.

"_What?_" Was she—? What? _What?_

She looked up at him, trying not to chuckle at the look on his face. "Adopt a puppy from the humane society."

"Oh," Finn said as his heart settled back into his chest. But then he realized what she had said, and thus defaulted back to "What?"

They were on his couch watching (at Finn's insistence since they always watched what Rachel wanted. Eventually, Rachel had given in and let him have his way—she just wanted to spend time with him) reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. While Rachel found some parts of the show distasteful, she couldn't help but admire the determination and strength of Buffy Summers. But one of those ASPCA commercials that Rachel hadn't seen in forever had come on during the break. And her heart went out to all those poor, neglected animals. Those commercials always made her eyes watery.

Obviously Finn had been less affected by the plight of those innocent dogs and cats—which led to her next idea. Smiling slyly, she stretched across the couch and grabbed the cat that was curled up at the opposite end as her and Finn. Sorbet purred as she scratched his ears. Holding him up and pouting, Rachel declared, "He needs a friend, Finn!"

Finn stared at his girlfriend. This was a joke, right? It had to be. Yeah, he liked dogs and everything, but also, didn't dogs, like, chase cats and stuff? Surely Rachel knew that—she knew just about everything. "I don't know, Rach."

Recognizing the look of unbridled willpower hardening her face, he sighed. She pushed the cat into his lap and Finn hoped that he'd remembered to take his allergy pill that morning. "You spend more time with me than you do with Sorbet," Rachel started matter-of-factly.

He looked at her funny—kind of like that time after she'd kissed him on the stairwell when he confronted about falling apart before Regionals. "Well, that's because you're my girlfriend. Uh, not Sorbet. Besides, he's not even a girl so…" he trailed off.

"Exactly!" Okay now he was just completely confused. "Since you're always spending time with me," she explained excitedly, knowing she was going to get her way, "we owe it to Sorbet to get him a friend so he's not lonely."

Finn looked down at the cat still in his lap and absently stroked its—_his_—back. He didn't _look_ lonely. In fact, the damn cat was more spoiled than _he_ was. His mom _loved_ the cat, Finn thought wryly. He snorted.

"Finn, I am serious!"

"So am I!" he countered stupidly. He hadn't even made an opposing point or anything. She looked at him like he had a watermelon growing out of his nose (he actually almost checked before he realized he would probably be able to _feel_ a five pound melon hanging off his face) and he kind of just wanted a basilisk to look him in the eyes and put him out of his misery.

She picked up the cat again and raised him so he was nuzzling Finn's neck. Finn looked down, feeling sort of awkward, and then sent a questioning glance to Rachel. "He loves you, Finn! See! And you're showing him you love him back by _not_ allowing him to have a friend?"

Well, when she put it _that_ way…Wait what? No! Damn it, he thought. Rachel was just way too good at getting what she wanted from him. "Cats hate dogs." It was a dumb sentence, but since that was in no way unusual, Finn mentally shrugged it off. He was resolute to keep his manhood. Um, he meant that figuratively. Not like…yeah. Anyway.

Rachel had (naturally) already prepared her defense for that particular point of interest. "Not necessarily. My Daddy's cousin's dog raised an entire litter of kittens. And now, they simply _adore_ anything of the _canine _genus. Also, in the time we've had Sorbet, have you known him to ever hate _anything?_"

Finn sighed again; she had him there. And the next thing he knew, he was driving them over to the humane society. He wasn't even totally sure how Rachel had persuaded him this time. He was such a wimp. Like he needed a dog, too. He knew it wouldn't be able to stay at Rachel's house; she'd already made that clear. His house would probably turn into an animal shelter of its own if Rachel had any say in it. Or instead of the crazy cat lady with 45 cats, he'd be the pansy-assed douchebag with almost as many cats as boners he got from his crazy girlfriend. Yep, _that_ was something to look forward to. (Cue dry face, he thought). When he had kids, he would tell them to watch out for sneaky girls with too much backbone. They were trouble. Wonderful, delicious, totally worth it trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

Walking through hallways of caged animals with downcast eyes and bandages was one of the most depressing things that Finn had ever done. He hadn't cried at the commercial, but now he felt a sadness that mirrored Rachel's. He clutched her hand, letting her know it was okay for her to cry again. And he could tell she wanted to. But because she was Rachel Berry, she didn't. She just went on being a trooper and he looked at her then and wondered how he would ever be able to live without her.

Rachel felt her heart, heavy in her chest, begin to swell. There was so much misunderstood strife surrounding these poor little guys. It was enough to make her weep. But they were being strong enough to live, so she would be strong enough to fend off her tears. And one of these guy (or girls) would be going home with her today. Well, not home with _her_ specifically. They would go to Finn's house, but that was home enough for Rachel. She leaned against him when she felt his large hand wrap around her small one. She really hoped he knew how much she appreciated him.

"Which one do you want?" he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head; she didn't know yet. She knew she had an ingenious and enviable intuition. She would know the right one when she saw him or her. She just wished she wouldn't leave feeling so terrible for all the ones she knew she couldn't take with her. But then she looked over and saw a pair of glossy, gold eyes looking straight at her and she knew. "It's this one," she murmured to Finn.

He didn't ask why; he didn't need to. He trusted Rachel inherently. She was sort of like his heartbeat, he thought. Steady and strong and he didn't need to know all the smallest details to know it was right. So he nodded and watched in wonder as Rachel's face transformed from an expression of grief to one of simple adoration.

Rachel placed her fingers through the bars and smiled when the puppy nuzzled her hand. She read the description. In front of her sat a female, golden lab (though Rachel noted she looked more white), who was just barely a year old and still didn't have a name. She read about the abuse of the nameless animal in front of her and felt rage bubble inside of her for the previous owners. In no way could she _ever_ justify the abuse or exploitation of animals. She looked to Finn.

He smiled and when the shelter worker came over, he was delighted that Finn and Rachel were indeed adopting the puppy. After what seemed to Finn like ten pounds of paperwork (and he'd had to call his mom for parental permission since he was only sixteen), the small golden lab was finally theirs. He let Rachel hold her all the way home, knowing she was feeling her maternal instincts kick in. She played the role of protector very well and he knew someday, in their future (note _their_ future, not _her_ future), their children would have the best mother in the entire universe. And he would be lucky enough to watch it all.

"What are you going to name her?" Finn asked as he opened the door.

Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it again. It was hard to say, but she said it anyway. "You get to name her."

Finn's shocked expression didn't surprise her, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. She knew she was more than a little controlling. She _tried_ not to be, but after her whole life of having no friends, it was just a part of her personality. But now that she had someone (and not just someone, _Finn_) who cared about her in ways she had only ever dreamed about, she was trying a lot harder to give up or at least minimize some of the less attractive qualities about herself. Finn, of all people, deserved it.

So he shot her that heart-melting grin and ruffled the dog's head. He didn't want to pick a stupid name; he'd had enough bad experiences with his name choices. So he thought and then—whoa was he getting an idea? "Well, since I mean, it's kind of how we got her…I mean, it's okay if you don't like it. But what about Buffy?"

She smiled widely and wrapped her arms around his waist, saying softly, "That's perfect, Finn!"

He felt his heart engorge with pride. And with love. "So that's that, then."

"That's that," she agreed. "Let's go introduce Buffy to her housemate."

Buffy was a little hesitant, but Rachel expected that, given her previous ownership. But she was able to coax the dog along finally, and, as she had surmised, Sorbet was just thrilled to have a new friend. He rubbed against her legs, purring loudly. Buffy didn't respond at first, but Finn and Rachel continued to watch. They both laughed when Buffy licked the top of the cat's head.

"You know," Finn observed, "they're kind of like us." Knowing that Rachel was going to ask for elaboration, he continued, "Not with the rubbing and licking, well, I mean they kind of are like us in that way—" (Oh, _God_ did he just say that _out loud_?) But she just snorted amusedly, so he kept babbling. "But what I meant is right off the bat, there's a spark. Like, just a connection. And I don't see Sorbet as being dumb enough to ignore it or downplay it for months like I did, which is good. Because if Buffy's anything like you, she definitely doesn't deserve it. But yeah, just look at them. They're not gonna date or anything, but they're always gonna be there for each other, I can tell. So that's just like us. You know?"

Rachel didn't even know what to say. People always accused Finn of being dumb, and she could admit he still was lacking in some typical school smarts (though with her help he was improving significantly), but in some ways, his intelligence was so profound, it made her eyes sting and her heart burst. "I do know," she told him softly. "I really do." And she'd noticed the heartfelt assurance to be there for her no matter what. And just as he knew she'd hold him to the promise, she knew that he would keep it.  


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	9. Star

**A/N:**_ My goal was to have this story finished before the Season 2 premier. But that's not going to happen. Hopefully you don't all stop reading this now that your Finchel cravings can be satiated with the actual TV series.  
Anyway, here is the next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews and keep at it! You guys are the best._

_Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Glee. But I sure as hell am excited that it's coming back in a few days!_  


* * *

  
Finn looked up from his seat, watching as Rachel made her way toward him. He pulled at his tie as he took in her appearance. She was beautiful all the time, but tonight she just had this radiant glow about her that made Finn lose his breath a little every time he looked at her. Dinner had been fine; it was good, but he was so distracted, noting every little move or shake of Rachel's. He didn't know where or when she'd gotten the dark pink, mid-thigh dress, but it suited her. That was a lie; it looked fricking fantastic on her! He just had a rather lacking vocabulary to try to explain it or the way it affected him.

It was her cousin's wedding and she'd asked him to be her date. And really, how could he have said no? Her excitement had been a little infectious. And looking at her the way he was now, well it had all been worth it. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the matching pink tie (because really, pink wasn't his color—he was more a blue stripes kind of guy), but he _had_ gotten a lot of compliments on it. And it was worth suffering through, getting to see Rachel strut around in those sexy high heels she'd bought to match the dress.

He didn't usually like weddings, though he supposed he didn't exactly a lot of experience with them. He'd only been to one other, but it had been pretty traumatizing. The bride had confessed to the groom (his mom's cousin) that she didn't love him, but instead was in love with the best man. He'd cried and punched the shit out of his best friend. She'd cried harder and ran away, the crowd all staring in shock and horror. Reflecting on it now, Finn noted the similarities between that particular event and his sophomore year of high school. They weren't exactly the same, of course, but it still made his stomach churn. This wedding had gone _considerably_ better.

Now he was sitting at a long table filled with people he didn't know, answering questions about Rachel and himself at the reception. Rachel had wandered off (and she wouldn't tell him where she was going or what she was doing) and it had taken her almost ten minutes to come back. She lowered herself down into her seat next to him and smiled at the grateful expression that she found on his face. She knew inquiries like this made Finn uncomfortable (though she couldn't deny the little spark of pleasure she got from watching him squirm), but he was holding his own. One of her cousin's friends smiled at him.

"So how'd you get the name Finn?" she asked. Rachel strained to tell if she was just curious or trying to be flirtatious, then decided it was most likely a combination of both.

Finn stared blankly. It wasn't like he picked his name or popped out of his mom with a nametag. And his mom had never told him any stories as to the origin of his name. "Um, my mom and dad gave me the name," he told her stupidly. He still didn't really get the question. It wasn't like he had any kind of cool or badass name—actually, he was pretty sure his parents had a thing for weird names (his mom _had_ told him that if he were a girl, his name would have been Fredella). He flashed a questioning smile and glanced at Rachel, hoping she would come to his rescue.

The girl's brow furrowed, but she nodded. Rachel clutched his hand under the table and explained that the meaning of the name "Finn" was "fair" and that is was of "Irish Gaelic and Old German descent." Huh. Finn hadn't known any of that, but he could appreciate that Rachel did and the other girl seemed appeased. But really, fair? He resisted the urge to sigh disappointedly. Why couldn't it mean, like, wolf or knight or something? Fair made him seem like a pansy. Wrapped up in his critical thoughts of the meaning of his name, he didn't hear the next question. "Uh, sorry. What?"

A guy with thick black glasses scoffed and looked at Finn reproachfully. "I asked where you got your tie."

Finn's hand traveled to the knot at his neck. "I—Rachel bought it." It was true, but he was aware that it probably made him seem really dumb. But the guy shrugged and looked at Rachel expectantly. She happily relayed the information.

Rachel was feeling positively bubbly. The ceremony had been beautiful—she hoped her own wedding would rival it. Her cousin and the groom had chosen a nature theme of rock and water—of solidness and fluidity. The bridesmaids were dressed in a deep royal blue and the men in shades of charcoal. She'd had tears in her eyes before her cousin even walked out in her gorgeous gown, smiling and glowing. She glanced down at the prayer stone she was still holding in the hand that wasn't holding Finn's before placing it inside her purse. She was supposed to return it—and she would, of course! But she needed to think of not only a suitable wish for the newly married couple, but a perfect one. And that required more than a mere few moments that the pastor had given them during the ceremony.

She answered questions earnestly; it seemed as if her family and friends were more than a _little_ interested in her relationship with Finn. She was in such a stupendously pleasant mood that she wasn't even bothered by the lingering looks at that some of the girls at their table were giving Finn. She could be honest with herself, though—it did help that he didn't seem to notice them. Or, if he did, he wasn't paying any attention to them. She liked to think it was the latter, because then maybe it meant that when they went back to school in two weeks, everything would be okay. And that thought only served to elevate her already high spirits.

The mood was much more relaxed now. Her cousin had placed her and Finn at a table with people closest to their age range. At first, it had been awkward and slightly tense. But with the serving of dinner and Rachel's finally successful attempts at striking up a conversation, everyone began to feel more at ease. She was proud of Finn for engaging in these bits of conversation, for she knew this wasn't a usual setting for him at all. But she needed to loosen him up a bit still. And she had an idea.

Almost an hour later, the DJ _finally_ started playing music. Rachel was beginning to worry if maybe the man forgot what his job description was. Thankfully, she didn't have to resort to singing a cappella for four hours. She didn't mind singing, of course, but she preferred not to sing in settings where her impeccable talent would be wasted on drunkenness. She smiled as she watched the first dance and swore that would be her and Finn someday. She just knew. And then the DJ opened the floor to the guests.

She grabbed Finn's hand and dragged him onto the middle of the floor. He looked at her suspiciously. "Rachel?"

"Finn, you've danced before," she said soothingly. "We did it almost daily during the school year."

He shifted his feet and cleared his throat. "I know that. But I don't wanna give these people any more reasons to hate me." His voice came out as a worried whisper and Rachel had to work to keep from laughing at his paranoia. He was so adorable.

"You've come a long way with your dancing." And she was being honest. "Also, these people are drunk," she told him bluntly. "They won't remember."

He grinned and knew she was right. Plus, how bad could it really be? Observing the moves of some of the dancers, he realized even Artie could dance better than they could; that was reassuring. "Besides," she added, her lips curving as she recognized Chris Carrabba's voice rumbling out of the speakers. "You love Dashboard. I saw that poster in your room!"

He laughed and pulled her close to him. "Well, let's show these lushes how it's done then."

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little light-headed at the dark glint of competition (and desire) that sparkled in his eyes. She would have to remember to use competitive techniques in the future, then scolded herself. She shouldn't be conspiring to weasel Finn into doing whatever she wanted. Sometimes she just couldn't help herself. Like tonight. Seeing Finn self-conscious in his dark gray suit, light gray dress shirt and pink tie—well, he was fairly irresistible. Not that she would tell him that in so many words. She figured he would draw the line at the tie—and he had. He'd protested profusely, but she was Rachel Berry and it wasn't in her nature to give up. By the time he'd noticed she'd got it on him while she'd been distracting him with kisses, he only sighed resignedly. Of course, she was certain he was busy plotting revenge and part of her was excited to see what he had in store. The other part was fearful. Still, she knew as a couple, they looked absolutely fabulous and that satisfied her to no end.

She noted all the applause, the hooting and hollering of the wedding party and guests, as they watched her and Finn twirling around the dance floor. He was grinning widely with approval as people drunkenly called them show-offs. She was about to get mildly offended until her boyfriend leaned in close to her ear and told her they were just teasing. At least her plan was working, she thought. Finn had relaxed visibly.

He felt the way he did when the Titans won that one game last year. And even though they were drunk and it was just dancing at a wedding, it felt like he was a star, or a king or something of equal nature. And suddenly, he understood Rachel's aspirations a lot better. It felt great, _gratifying,_ to hear people shouting and cheering you on. He'd been so distracted at that game to notice the way the crowd had made him feel. And up until now, that had been a one-time thing. Well, yeah, people had cheered at their glee club rehearsals, but for some reason it was different. Maybe because none of that was really his idea. Whereas, _he'd_ been the one who proposed dancing on the field, _he'd_ been the one to throw the winning pass. And _he'd_ been the one to tell Rachel to go all-out tonight. He turned and watched as the newlyweds followed their lead, glad that he'd given in at this request. He wouldn't have believed it an hour ago, but he was having fun. At a wedding! Maybe they weren't so bad after all.

Singing softly along to Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight," Finn kissed the top of Rachel's hair as she leaned her head against his chest. Moments like these were the ones he tried to commit to memory—perfect moments where he could hardly separate Rachel from himself; where they became one, a single unit and a single soul. And next time he missed her, he would call up these images to his mind and remember what it felt like to be a part of her life and a part of her.

As the music wound down with the last of the guests, he looked at her. She was coming back from placing a prayer stone in the basket at front table. _Julia and Drake,_ she'd wished,_ don't just make each other happy forever, don't just be an intertwining part of each others lives. Be a part of each other, switching between solidness and fluidity to stay as one. You deserve it._ Being with Finn tonight had made her realize that love required not only strength, but flexibility as well. You had to give some if you wanted to take some. She smiled as she saw him watching her.

"I think we did indeed show them how it's done, Finn," Rachel said proudly, leaning up to touch her lips to his.

He threaded his fingers with hers as they walked to the car. "Damn straight, babe," he replied. "Damn straight."

And damn straight he felt freaking _awesome_ about it. Star Finn Hudson: 2 (actually, 3 if he included Rachel—and he did. So yeah, 3). Loser Finn Hudson: 0.  


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	10. Giving

_**A/N:** Not a long chapter, but different. Sorry in advance if it sucks._

_Disclaimer: Uh, nope. Don't own._

* * *

Rachel was giving him that weird look again and he became instantly wary. He loved her to pieces (he'd heard his mom use that expression before, but thinking about it now, it didn't really make any sense), but there was only so much she could take from him. He'd been trying really hard to be a good boyfriend this summer because Lord knew all his past screw-ups made him look like a terrible person, but sometimes he couldn't help but feel like she was taking advantage of him. He _hated_ thinking like that since he knew it probably wasn't intentional (right?), but well, you couldn't help what you felt, he knew.

She was half-lying on top of him on his bed and he loved being close to her. He felt her chest move against his as she took a deep breath. He sighed inwardly. "I'm flying to Chicago to see a few off-Broadway productions of the revivals of some of my favorite shows. I'm leaving tomorrow night."

He sat up immediately, pulling her with him. "What?" He couldn't think of anything better (or else) to say. This was the first time she'd said anything about it.

"Come with me."

He looked down at her, not expecting to hear that from her. He really didn't want to watch musicals in Chicago. He loved singing and performing, but it was only one part of him. He didn't expect to make it as some big Broadway singer. Nor did he really want to. His voice wasn't suited for it; he preferred just finding a song that fit his emotions and singing it to release said emotions. He looked at her blankly and knew his non-reply was either saddening her or just pissing her off. She pushed off him a little.

"Finn?"

"You do know we go back to school in, like, four days, right, Rach?" Ever since she'd been forcing him to study more, he'd realized some of this stuff was actually interesting. But more than that, he wanted to do well. He wanted to improve his grades and get into a good college so he could have something to offer Rachel when they moved out of this cesspool excuse for a town. Being distracted by shiny lights and singing and stuff, well it would break his concentration. Not that he studied in all his free time (he had a life too, ya know). But he was trying. And it wasn't untrue that, man, he _hated_ airplanes. Like, despised them. And he didn't see how getting on one to watch a bunch of hoity toity (but still not good enough for Broadway) actors prance around on stage would be a test to confirm his love for Rachel. What about all the other stuff he'd done for her? That counted for something, right?

She looked at him sharply. "We'll be back the night before the last day of summer vacation."

He didn't like the way she said "we'll"—as if it were a definite. He sighed. "I really don't want to…"

"Finn," she began. "You love musicals—"

He scoffed. "No, Rachel. _You_ love musicals. And I love you, that's about as far as it goes."

"And yet you're not coming with me?" She was now completely off him, standing next to the bed with her hands on her hips. He supposed it was a test after all.

"No." And he knew he'd just failed.

"Fine," she said tightly and strode out of his bedroom. He dropped his head in his hands before flopping backwards on his bed. He grunted as Buffy jumped up on the bed and curled next to him.

"Well, that sucked a fat one," he muttered, scratching the dog's ears. She'd settled in really well and was becoming quite the attention hog. He knew he'd have to fix things with Rachel and the easiest way would be to follow her and take it all back; to fly to Chicago with her less than a week before school started. But shit, why was he the one that had to do all the compromising? Just because he was the guy? Or just because he was with Rachel? Crap. Why was all this so damn complicated?

She'd come around. Wouldn't she?

* * *

Rachel closed the door to her bedroom with more force than necessary. She'd been telling herself for weeks he'd have to say no to her eventually. But she never really wanted to believe it. Would this be just the beginning? Were they running around in circles?

She laughed bitterly. What _would_ happen when they returned to school? Would he be embarrassed to be seen with her? Would he return to Santana and Brittany? Some other cheerleader? _Quinn?_ She took a deep breath. Maybe he had a good reason for turning her down, though unless he had a funeral to attend, she really wasn't convinced. No one really understood what it was like to be her. She'd never been this happy in her life before; not even when they'd won sectionals or her dads had bought her a car. Finn was the best thing in her life and she just couldn't let go of it. Of him.

She packed some of her favorite skirts into her suitcase. Some of Finn's favorite skirts of hers. As if _that_ would make him change his mind. She told herself she was overreacting. But she was Rachel Berry; overreacting was her forte. Her life demanded drama and it was much too ingrained in her now to abandon it. So what if she was possessive (and obsessive) of her boyfriend? That was normal for teenage girls, right? She supposed she didn't know; she hadn't ever been considered "normal" before. In fact her relationship with Finn was the only degree of normalcy in her life, and that was a rather skewed definition of the word, at best.

Carefully arranging all the garments in her suitcase, Rachel surveyed her progress. She ended up packing and re-packing twelve times. She blamed it on her anxiety. Finn hadn't called yet. And _she_ would not be the one to give in. She was nothing if not determined and headstrong. She liked to think Finn found those qualities attractive in some regard, but perhaps not. _Stop thinking about him!_ she snapped to herself. Obviously, he had _better_ things to be doing. She just needed to distract herself. Perhaps she could upload a new Myspace video. She'd only gotten thirty-seven hateful comments on that last one, as opposed to the usual fifty-five plus. So like everything else, she took her progress in stride and did what she could to value it.

But truthfully, it was one of those rare times where she just didn't feel like singing. And she didn't want to watch a movie. She thought about re-organizing her room, but well, it was hard to be more organized. Unless she wanted to aim for Miss Pillsbury-like cleanliness. And that sort of extremism was a bit much, even for Rachel. Instead she laid on her bed and did exactly what she told herself not to; thought about Finn.

About the past year, and the last few weeks and the possibilities of the future. It took up a considerable amount of time. She didn't even notice she had fallen asleep until she heard her alarm go off the next morning.

And she still hadn't heard from Finn. It unnerved her even more than she would admit.

* * *

What were they even fighting about? And why hadn't he fixed things yet? Finn pondered these things as he shoveled through his third bowl of Frosted Flakes. Even if he didn't go, he could still make it up to her, though he hoped she would apologize too. She was so irrational sometimes. Like if he didn't cater to her every whim it suddenly meant he felt less about her. That was a load of crap and she ought to know it.

In a way, he really wished she would make the first move. He felt like since they'd been together officially, he was always giving and giving and that alone didn't bother him. It was that even after all that, she still made him look and seem like the bad guy. It didn't change the fact that he still missed her like hell and was wasting time and in a few hours, she'd be gone anyway. If they didn't make up (God this was a _stupid-_ass thing to fight about) before she left, he would have a crummy time without her and the rest of the week would be shot to hell. He didn't want to walk into his junior year with his girlfriend hating him. He remembered what Mr. Schue told him about how being special sucked and sometimes you just had to be the bigger man. If he had to give up some pride to fix his relationship, he supposed he could deal. But some things had to change and he was going to be honest with her.

He didn't know what time her flight left or when she was leaving for the airport, but it was already three-thirty and he didn't have any more time to waste. He pulled on a pair of jeans quickly and raced to his truck. He just really hoped she was still home. Inhaling sharply, he turned the ignition and headed to Rachel's house.

* * *

An incessant knocking on her front door snapped Rachel out of her melancholy daze. At first she thought her fathers were home, but that didn't make sense; they wouldn't be knocking. That and they were already in Chicago, which was why they approved the trip in the first place. Curiously, she opened the door and her heart swelled and squeezed when she saw Finn standing there.

"Come in," she said, trying for brisk but achieving desperation. She needed to compose herself, especially if he were here for an apology.

"Can we talk, Rach?" Finn asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She motioned up the stairs; he followed her to her room and shut the door behind them. She looked at him expectantly.

"Look, I know you probably think I'm a shitty—"

"Finn!"

"Uh, terrible boyfriend and stuff, I promise I'm not. You know I hate planes and stuff and Rachel, I mean, I don't even know if my mom would be okay with it—probably not. You gotta admit it was pretty last minute."

She didn't say anything.

He sighed; honesty it was, after all. He sat down on her bed and patted the seat next to him. She looked reluctant, but lowered herself down on his left side. He turned to face her. "I really wanna be the guy who can do all these things for you and to be honest, I think I am. I mean, you've asked me to do a lot of things this summer and I know most of it took some prodding and stuff, but in the end, I came through, right? But I can't do every little thing. I'm still my own person with my own opinions and stuff. I mean, they're not usually, like, good or valuable opinions or anything, but you need to respect that. I care about you more than anything, but sometimes it seems like you just expect me to do everything you ask just 'cause I'm your boyfriend."

Her eyes snapped up. Was he—he wasn't breaking up with her, was he? Oh God, this was _not _what she was expecting. Should she have been prepared for it? She folded her hands in her lap.

"I mean," he went on, oblivious to Rachel's internal panic. "I love making you happy and it makes me feel good and everything. But a lot of times, you don't even really say thank you. You kiss me all hot and stuff and don't get me wrong, I totally love it, but sometimes I just want to know you're actually grateful. I wanna know that you appreciate me and don't think I'm like, inadequate or whatever. You know?"

Rachel was aware that her mouth was probably hanging open. He seriously though that of her? She knew she should probably be offended, but instead she just felt…awful. She spent so much time thinking of herself and how she felt about Finn, especially regarding her insecurities, that it never even crossed her mind that Finn would have his own insecurities. She looked up at him and placed a hand on his thigh. "I am _so_ sorry, Finn," she whispered. "I never, _never,_ want to make it seem like I don't appreciate everything you do and are. I could count on one hand all the people who do me favors, aside from you, and still have most of my fingers left over. And the difference there is that those people always expect reciprocity, generally on a much larger scale."

He looked like he had gotten lost and she did her best not to smile at his expression. "Everything you do for me, you do because you're a good person and not because you want me to pay you back bigger and better," she amended, noticing the corner of his mouth was starting to quirk up. "I get so caught up sometimes in all the things you've done for me in the past that I forget you have room to say no. I don't own you." She sighed. It was hard to say all this out loud, but it needed to be said. She took his hand, immediately comforted by its warmth. "You weren't wrong to say no to me. In fact, I was wrong to expect you to always say yes. And I can't tell you how awful I feel that I've made _you_ feel so awful about this relationship—" and then it was too hard to go on because she was choking up.

"Whoa, whoa. Rachel." He tilted her face up so her eyes were right on his. "I don't feel awful about this relationship at all. And I do all these crazy, pansy-ass things 'cause I love you, not 'cause I _have_ to. I just don't want to feel unappreciated. It's too like when I was with Quinn." He frowned, not wanting to go there. "Hey, hey. It's okay. Rach, don't cry. Come on."

But it was too late; the flood had started. So he did what he could; he held her. He didn't really know for how long, but it had to be quite a while because, man, his arms were all tingly and they'd fallen asleep, but what could he do? He felt like a dick for making her cry.

She sniffled. "I'm sorry," she heard Finn murmur eventually. She glanced at him, confused.

"For what?"

"For sucking and making you cry," he answered.

She shifted in his grip so she could face him. "No! It's not your fault. Thank you for telling me all this." He looked at her skeptically. "No, really. I need to hear these things sometimes. And I think I intimidate people too much for them to do the same. You keep me grounded—well, as grounded as I can be, all things considered. And I appreciate it. Don't feel bad for telling me. Honesty is always the best policy."

He smiled. "Okay. If you say so." He pulled Rachel toward him and captured her lips in a sweet but searing kiss. Her lips were kind of salty from her tears. And that was kind of weird because it reminded him of potato chips, except she definitely tasted better than any kind of chips that he'd ever had. Also, why the hell was he thinking about chips (or about anything) when Rachel's hands were sliding up his torso and her lips were on his neck. He turned his head to give her better access and pressed his fingers into her hips. He saw the time on her alarm clock read 5:30. "Shit, shit!" He tore away from her (and it might have been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do). "Rachel! You're gonna miss your flight!" Unless she had a flight at, like, eleven, but knowing Rachel the way he did, he knew she wouldn't schedule a flight that late if she didn't have to. She valued her daily routine.

She shushed him by taking advantage of his sitting up position and yanking his shirt over his head. "I'm not going," she said softly before setting her lips to work on his collarbone.

"What?" he combination asked/groaned. She smirked before her lips curved into a genuine smile. "I value you more than seeing another musical. My dads will be okay without me." (In fact, she knew they had only just barely given her the okay to go; they still preferred her to be home this close to the new school year). "And I have some obvious making up to do. I love you, Finn. And I know it doesn't come close yet, but thank you for everything."

Inching his hands slowly up her delicious thighs, he pulled her closer. "It's a start." Actually, it kind of made up for everything. Because even one compromise from her meant the world, knowing they didn't come easily to her. But he'd need to be bat-shit to spoil the mood by telling her that. So instead, he held her tighter as she ground her hips into his and wondered what would become of the rest of the night. And then he realized it didn't really matter because they'd managed to reach some kind of milestone or landmark or whatever in their relationship and he was good with anything he could get from her. He was happy to compromise, to give, to be with Rachel. And now he knew for sure that Rachel was happy to do the same to be with him.

All in all, it was a damn good day.

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_If you didn't see the Britney ep, ignore this. But I feel like now that Finn and Rachel are together, she's just annoying. I get that she had insecurities about the relationship and she even has the right of it, but her telling him to choose between her and football/her and Quinn was obnoxious. And I hope their storylines don't just focus on her being ridiculous to Finn. At least she came to the conclusion that she messed up on her own this time and hopefully she sticks to what she says because if not, I think Puckleberry might be a force in S3. =O_

_Anyway, let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Reviews=love._


	11. Anniversaries

**A/N: **_Anddd here we are. The final chapter of Antics! Thanks for sticking around!_

_Special thanks to tjcrowfoot for beta-ing this chapter for my lazy ass. ^^ Lemme know what you all think!_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Glee yet. But I'll let you know when that changes._

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Finn was relieved to know that all of Rachel's tutoring sessions hadn't been in vain. Okay, so sometimes he forgot which courses he was taking, but once he got in the swing of attending class every day, even he knew his grades were going to improve noticeably. And with all this PSAT bullcrap coming up, at least he would be passing _something._ Anyway, so school was going pretty well, all things considered. Glee club was still the social pariah, but he was glad to know that no one really cared anymore, himself included. And thankfully, he and Rachel had gotten past the whole "you're going to ditch me" yaddity yadda BS.

Anyway, so now things were totally great. Like, super. With Rachel, at least. But since that was the area of his life he cared most about, that was okay with him. So when Rachel directed him to the auditorium after school today, he wasn't sure if he should be confused or excited. So he was both. It was decidedly unelaborated, especially given that it was, you know, _Rachel._ But it made him smile anyway. The lighting was low and she perched herself on the piano bench. She was wearing this cute outfit that he _knew_ she'd worn exactly at some other point in time, but obviously couldn't remember. "Rach?" he asked softly, not masking his curiosity.

"I just figured we should meet back in here, since it's our anniversary after all," she replied brightly.

Finn froze. Anniversary? He knew from experience that anniversary meant once a year. (One time he'd bought Quinn flowers for their one month anniversary and she'd laughed, called him stupid, and anniversary meant annually—as in one time a year). And even though no one would accuse him of being the pointiest tack in the box (or whatever), his IQ had at least reached cabbage level. "But we didn't start dating until the end of last school year…"

She placed her hands primly on her hips. "Why, yes, I am aware of that, Finn. I mean, this is our anniversary of the first time we _kissed!_" Did he really not remember? She even replicated the outfit that she'd been wearing that day. She watched as his eyes widened and he suddenly burst out laughing. "Really, Finn, _what_ is so amusing?"

He just walked toward her and enveloped her in his large frame, breathing in the scent of her. "You're just…I can't even explain it, Rachel. Only you would do this and you're kind of crazy." He noted the flash of her eyes. "But it's a _good_ kind of crazy. The best kind." He twirled a section of her hair in his fingers, watching as it cast shadows over her face. "I mean, this time last year, I would've run away probably. Actually," he frowned, "I guess I did. But I mean, I'm not now, so…"

Her expression changed into one of gratitude as she took his hands. "I didn't want to mirror the setting of that day since…it didn't exactly pan out." Her voice was lower, almost embarrassed. And he had to resist the urge to laugh again. _She_ was embarrassed by that situation? He didn't even want to go there.

He cleared his throat. "Well, what did you have in mind for today?"he asked.

She pursued her lips. That was the thing; she _didn't_ have anything particular planned. It was unusual for her, but she hadn't known what to expect. She could admit to herself that she was a little disappointed that he didn't remember, but she supposed she couldn't fault him. The boy could barely remember the day of the week. She knew it wasn't entirely conventional to hold an anniversary for a first kiss, but then her relationship with Finn could hardly be described as typical itself. But that kiss had represented a milestone in their relationship, even if he hadn't been able to face it at the time. She shook her head, unsure.

Finn couldn't deny that he was surprised that Rachel hadn't mapped out some detailed schedule, but he could roll with this. In theory. But he didn't really know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled her close and just held onto her. Someday, they would have a real anniversary. A year of dating, then a year of marriage, and then years and year and years. He wasn't even going to consider trying to live without her. He hoped by then, though, he'd be a little more savvy at picking out gifts for girls. It didn't matter a whole lot at this point in time, but he wasn't afraid to think about the future anymore. He kissed her softly. This wasn't about trying to sex her up (for a change); it was about passion and understanding. Because needed her to know that he understood her; he got where she was coming from and why this was important to her, even if it was maybe a little weird. But the one thing that Rachel had that no one else he knew did was distinct compassion and certainly. He'd hurt her enough in his life to know that underneath all that confidence, she was more fragile than she would ever let on. So he held onto her to let her know he'd be there to hold her together when she needed it just the same way she kept him together.

Rachel settled against her boyfriend (she doubted she would ever get tired of saying that). She remembered a year ago when he sat here and told her that he looked under the bed to make sure she wasn't hanging out there. And then she remembered the earnest honesty in his expression when he'd confessed that her singing had touched something in him. Her hands traced patterns that spelled "I love you" on the small of his back. "Finn?"

"Mmhmm?" He skimmed his lips across her face, placing small kisses on her cheeks, her temples before pressing them briefly against hers.

"When you listen to me sing, does it still touch something in you?" She prepared herself for any answer, out of habit more than distrust of his reply.

He pulled back a little, his hands clutching her elbows. "Rachel, babe, you don't even need to sing to touch something in me anymore. Don't get me wrong, I love singing with you." He flashed his trademark half-smile."It opens up everything inside me. But even just looking at you, I know you've made me a better person. I don't know, but I kinda think that's better. You know?"

Her smile was just so…big. And god, it was beautiful and he'd never get tired of seeing it. So okay, he was a total sap now, but well. Whatever. If being with Rachel turned him into a pansy, he would just deal. Because he seriously doubted any of the guys with a god complex who would give him shit for being a girl had ever had anything as good as this, as good as _Rachel._

"Finn," she murmured, encircling her arms around his neck. "Happy anniversary."

He couldn't help it; he laughed affectionately. There just wasn't anyone else like her. "Thanks, babe. Uh, and you too. But I mean—oh crap! I definitely didn't get you anything!" He hoped she would understand. Didn't girls hate it when you forgot presents? Or was that just in his mom's romance books? Well, it wasn't like he read them, so he wouldn't actually know…okay, anyway, was this a good time to panic? He wasn't sure. So he just looked at her.

She gazed at him, her eyes dark and soulful, her voice low and almost melodious. "You did."

He looked at her perplexedly, as he often did. She chuckled a little, finding Finn's naiveté positively endearing. She hoped he knew just how big his impact on her life had been. She was Rachel Berry and in no way would she revert back to the despicable and deplorable ways that she felt demarked the average high school girl and she would forever be high maintenance. However, it hadn't meant she couldn't make room to become a more generous person, to really give her heart. And Finn had enabled her to do that. "Finn, just agreeing to be here without berating or ridiculing me is a gift enough. But the fact is, everything you've given me, it's enough to fill up a lifetime of anniversary gifts. _Not_ that I'm discouraging you from presenting me with anniversary gifts in the future," she added firmly.

He pulled her down onto his lap on the bench and turned her to face him. "I don't really have the words to tell you everything I feel about you 'cause I barely have the words for anything. And I know our relationship has had its rough patches, but I wouldn't give it up for anything. And if you wanna have anniversaries for the first time we kissed, or the first time we plant a tree together or the first time I congratulate you on getting your first Tony, that's totally great. Maybe people will think we're kinda…what was that word you taught me? Eccentric, yeah. Maybe they'll think we're eccentric, but the point is, we'd be doing all this stuff 'cause we love each other. And that's totally good with me."

She didn't understand why he always thought he was stupider than he was. He always managed to find a way to fumble his way through everything she needed to hear, regardless of whether it was what she wanted or not. He was her rock, her stability in a life filled with crazed drama and intensity. And in turn, she served as his driving force when he was too unsure to search out his potential. They complimented each other not only well, but perfectly. It wasn't just black and white with them; they weren't just opposites. It was more accurate to say they had different approaches as to how to reach their goals. But at the end of the day, they just wanted to be someone important and love each other unconditionally. That he would grant her all these things that anyone else would only scoff at meant more to her than she could ever possibly convey to him. But since the name Rachel Berry was practically synonymous with determination, she was going to try.

She leaned forward, bringing her mouth up to his. He gripped her waist tightly, cupping her hips. "I love you, Finn. Don't ever forget that."

He smiled, his lips brushing down the side of her face. He began to sing softly. _"My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me? So I die happy. My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury, or wear as jewelry. Whichever you prefer."_

He grinned and quirked a brow in question. It was her turn to laugh. "It was perfect." _He_ was perfect. _They_ were perfect. She couldn't reiterate it enough.

"I know," he said with a smirk. Okay, so she was kind of crazy and everything, but mostly her antics were just amusing. And in some mind-warped-from-love way, he loved them. Probably because he loved her. But he wasn't going to overanalyze it. He was happy with where he was in his life and all seemed right (or right enough) in the world, so why tempt it into giving him bad luck?

"You know!" Finn said with excitement, suddenly struck with inspiration. "We should have an anniversary for when we first told each other 'I love you.'"

Rachel played with the hair at the back of his neck, wondering if he could be any more adorable. "Those would be two different dates." When he frowned, clearly disappointed, she added, "But there's no reason we can't add both as separate anniversaries."

"I don't think I have enough money to buy presents for that many anniversaries."

She smiled again and rested her forehead against his. "We'll find a way to make it work," she assured him, feeling relief and joy as his mouth turned into another half-smile. And they would make it work because they would make _everything_ work. Relationships took a little giving and a little getting on both sides, and they'd both come to terms with that. This was already a large improvement over the time they had been here a year ago; when he'd rushed off abruptly and she'd sat with her head in her hands, utterly humiliated. They'd come a long way. But she knew from the overall score sheet she'd been keeping inside her head since the night she'd decided against going to Chicago that she was still far behind Finn; she still owed him immensely. And now was as good a time as any to start narrowing that gap.

"Come on, Finn," she whispered near his ear and pulled him to his feet. She'd made a promise to give back to him. And she was going to keep it.

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_Welcome to my first official completed multi-chaptered Glee fic. Thanks to everyone who has alerted, faved and reviews. I appreciate all your support._

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I'm always coming up with new ideas, so you won't be seeing the last of me. Thanks again!

Oh yeah, Finn's song = "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional, which I don't own.

_Reviews=love _


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